


(Leaving) Everything You've Ever Known

by Independence1776



Series: (Leaving) 'verse [1]
Category: The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Consequences, F/M, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Redemption, does not ignore Loki's crimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-08
Updated: 2013-01-08
Packaged: 2017-11-24 03:14:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 50,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/629741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Independence1776/pseuds/Independence1776
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After falling from the Bifrost onto Midgard, Loki gets a second chance-- working for SHIELD. Then the Tesseract is stolen and Loki is faced with a choice: help SHIELD recover the Tesseract and Clint (and therefore reveal himself to Asgard) or let his new home burn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my beta Samtyr, my NYC beta Kenazfiction, my medical beta SurgicalSteel, my Germany beta Elleth, and my cheerleader LadyLunas. Any remaining mistakes are my own.
> 
> My story’s title comes from Gloriana’s “How Far Do You Wanna Go?”
> 
> Art by Solarbaby614 be found on her [LiveJournal](http://solarbaby614.livejournal.com/112998.html) and [Dreamwidth](http://solarbaby614.dreamwidth.org/119177.html).

Loki fell.

He didn't care about the cold or the dark. He knew they would stop eventually, when he did.

He wanted to _stop_ , so much.

He didn't reach out to catch the smaller branches of Yggdrasil, the ones all but a rare few in Asgard ignored in favor of pretending there were only the Nine Realms. So many could be grasped, but he saw no reason for him to. His chance to prove to Fa-- Odin that he was a worthy son, even being a sorcerer instead of a true warrior, even being _Jotunn_ … Gone. He couldn't do anything; could never, would never, have Odin's approval.

So he fell.

Into brightness caused by a yellow sun set low in a blue sky. He had time enough to smile when he realized that he'd discover the truth of something he'd idly wondered about: if an Asgardian (he was Asgardian he was Asgardian he was _Asgardian_ ) could fall from a great height and die. He gladly collapsed back into blackness when he struck the ground.

* * * * *

“Sir?”

Coulson turned around from watching several agents loading Doctor Foster's equipment into the vehicles it had been unloaded from only the previous day. Before Thor tried to claim the hammer, before the Destroyer had tried to kill them and demolished half of Puente Antiguo, before “Donald Blake” turned into Thor. “What is it?”

The scientist studying a monitor pointed to the screen. “Another event like the one that brought that metal monster here, but less controlled and terminating well above the ground. Almost as if it was an accident.”

“Is Doctor Foster still at the Bifrost site?”

“She is, but… that's not where this one came out. It's less than two miles from here, over the ridge.”

Coulson nodded and slipped his sunglasses on. He gestured at another agent. “Let's go. And hope we finally get more answers.”

Though he wasn't terribly optimistic. He had been able to learn some things from Selvig, Lewis, and the Asgardians before they left for the Bifrost site, but he needed to debrief Thor and Foster before he'd be satisfied. He did not like the sound of this Loki. (Near-immortal aliens, he'd been informed, not actual divinity. Time for the research department to start reading mythology, though he rather doubted the Norse myths would fully-- or even closely-- match reality.)

He climbed into the car, and the agent driving gunned the accelerator. Coulson refrained from commenting on how white her knuckles were as she clutched the steering wheel. He, too, was remembering the last thing that came through, and he hoped Thor had successfully dealt with his brother.

But when they came to the new crater and he stood on the rim, he breathed out a curse. That wasn't Thor. From the puddle of blood soaking into the dry sand around him, Loki didn't look good. And even though he was a criminal, Coulson wouldn't let him die. Not like this, if there was even a possibility they could help.

He walked down the side of the crater, three agents right behind him. Close up, Loki looked even worse, bones piercing skin and clothing. Bad enough that Coulson was fairly sure that even the best of medical technology wouldn't be enough to save him. But he _was_ sure that if he didn't call in an air ambulance to get Loki help, hell in the form of Asgard would fall on Earth if they ever discovered that someone had stood by and let him die. Not to mention his own conscience would never let him live with himself.

He looked up from his position at Loki's side to the agents gathering around, all faces in varying shades of pale. “Get the doctor, the first aid kits, and anything that can help. The backboard would also be a good idea.” He pulled out his cell phone while the other agents departed at a run and called a number he hoped he never had to (though he always expected to, and had in fact needed to less than six hours ago). “I need a medevac and the best surgeons SHIELD has in our nearest operating room by the time the ambulance arrives there.” He glanced Loki. “The patient fell from a height of at least two thousand feet, and probably more than that. He's a humanoid alien.”

He ignored the squawk from the other end of the line and hung up. Barton came over to him, pistol in hand but not raised. “Sir?”

“I don't think he's a threat right now,” Coulson said, studying Loki's closed eyes, labored breathing, and the blood trickling out of the side of his mouth. He pulled off his jacket and tie to form makeshift bandages and tourniquets. “And for his sake, I hope he doesn't wake up soon.”

Barton nodded. “I hope painkillers work on this guy. If he's anything like his brother, he'll pull through.”

Coulson sighed. “And then we decide what to do with him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note on the timeline:
> 
> Canonically, two years pass between _Thor_ and _The Avengers_. _Iron Man 2_ and _Thor_ occur at the same time. Tony's paperwork in the "Steve Rogers-- Man Out of Time" deleted scene reads: "Employment: CEO, Stark Industries 1992-2010." The date on Fury's screens at the end of _The Avengers_ reads May 2012. This story follows that timeline.


	2. Chapter 1

Loki woke up.

He lay there in silence, listening. He couldn't hear any voices, but he did hear the quiet hum of machinery near him. And he felt… weird. Sore, as if he'd overslept and hadn't moved all night. His throat hurt, his left arm was slightly colder than the right, and he wasn't entirely sure if he had hair on some parts of his head. Which led to one conclusion: healing room. He knew how badly he'd be hurt by not attempting to catch himself. But he'd hoped that would be the end of it all.

He opened his eyes. A plain white ceiling with plain white walls. Recalling the blue sky and yellow sun, he knew where he was. Midgard, not Asgard. And the mortals had saved his life.

He tried to move, to get out of bed and explore (escape), but he couldn't find any leverage. He was unable to even lift his head, much less remove the tube going into his left arm. It didn't take a genius to realize why. Restraints, far more than necessary to hold an unruly patient. So he was a prisoner, then. The only people who would know that he was dangerous would be the ones who had captured Thor that night and were trying to study Mjolnir. There had been enough time between the Destroyer's destruction and Thor's return for him-- or for his friends-- to have told them everything. Or at least their version of events. Maybe his way out of here would be to explain and show why the traitors had been in the wrong.

If they believed him.

A door-- one that had been completely indistinguishable from the wall-- slid open and a man dressed in a suit and tie came into the room. Cell. He looked familiar and it took Loki several seconds to recognize him as the man who had greeted the Destroyer. No, they wouldn't believe him.

Loki closed his eyes. He didn't want to be rejected yet again, no matter that he didn't even know the man. He'd been through too much. If only they had let him die.

“Are you in pain?”

Loki opened his eyes in shock. “I beg your pardon?”

“Are you in pain?” The man gestured to the side. “We found painkillers that work on you, and while we've been able to estimate the correct dosage, we couldn't know if we were right until you woke up.”

“Oh. No, I'm not.” Loki stared at the man, completely nonplussed and trying not to show it. He was a _prisoner_ , not… not something to be coddled.

“Then would you be able to tell me why the Bifrost dropped you instead of placing you neatly on the ground?”

Loki looked away. “Thor broke it.”

“Thor. The same Thor who promised Doctor Foster to return.”

Loki glanced back at the man, who simply stared down at him, waiting for an answer. Well, he _had_ intended to explain. “He disagreed with how I chose to end the war he started, and broke the Bifrost to stop it.”

The man gestured and the door slid open again, and another man in a suit put a metal folding chair down next to Loki's bed before leaving the cell. Healing room. Loki couldn't decide which it was. Probably both. The man sat down. “You'll need to start from the beginning.”

The beginning. Which one? The circumstances of his birth and adoption? No, best to skip over that and go with the coronation. No one here needed to know he was Jotunn. _Ever_. “Odin All-father occasionally goes into the Odinsleep. During that time, he is unable to rule Asgard. Thor, as the elder brother, is heir. It was his coronation, and no one would listen to me or see that he simply was not ready to rule. He was reckless and arrogant. And I ruined his big day. I snuck Jotunn into the treasury, and he behaved exactly as I knew he would. He, his friends, and I went to Jotunnheim, and he started a war. We nearly didn't escape alive, and when Odin retrieved us, he banished Thor here, to live as a mortal until he learned how to be worthy of the kingship. Only then would he regain his powers and hammer.

“You know how that happened.” Loki swallowed. “From my side of things, it was more complicated. Odin fell into the Odinsleep, and I had to take the throne. You must understand: I have always been the second son, the one people tolerated, not liked. While I can and do fight, I am a sorcerer, not a warrior, in a culture where the latter is the only acceptable path for royal sons. I was always in the shadows cast by my brother's light. Even Odin liked him more than me. He never seemed to see me as anything but what I failed to be.

“So this was my chance to prove myself. My original plan had gone terribly wrong-- Thor was never intended to reach Jotunnheim, much less start a war that had been brewing for a thousand years, ever since Asgard ran them off Midgard and took their source of power. I hadn't intended for him to be banished, either.” He swallowed, wincing. “My throat hurts. Is there anything to drink?”

The man reached over to where Loki couldn't see, grabbed something, and held a cup with a straw in it to Loki's lips. He drank a little bit and turned his gaze away. The man took the hint and put the cup down. “Are you ready to continue?”

“If you tell me your name.”

“Agent Coulson.”

Loki smiled. “I bet Thor called you Son of Coul.”

Coulson's lips twitched. “He did. Please continue.”

Loki chose his words more carefully than before. “I had to be reminded to take the throne by our mother the queen; I never wanted it.”

“Then what did you want?”

“To be Thor's equal. To be valued just as much as he is. To be trusted as much as he is, to not be treated as the strange one, the abnormal one, the one who could never do the expected things but always had to find his own methods.”

“What did you do next?”

“Thor's friends-- I thought they were my friends, of a sort-- came to me, not realizing that Odin was not currently on the throne. They asked me to reverse Thor's banishment. I couldn't, for multiple reasons, not just my personal ones. I told them the main one: politics. But they didn't believe me, and it didn't take someone as observant as I am to know they weren't happy with my response. But I had other plans to set in motion. I returned to Jotunnheim and approached the king with an offer he could not refuse: to return the object of power, if he took the opportunity to kill Odin in his sleep. He believed me, that I wanted my father dead so I could rule unopposed.

“He's my father. I didn't. I don't.

“So when Heimdall disobeyed my explicit instruction to not open the Bifrost to anyone to send the Warriors Three and Sif to Midgard, I knew I had to act fast. My plan to keep Thor safe, uninvolved, and remorseful on Earth had been ruined. They would tell him that what I had told him-- when he was seated in that mirrored room, by the way-- was lies. And he would know something was afoot.

“I had no choice but to send the Destroyer. There were four traitors, and Thor could not be permitted to ruin my one chance to prove to Odin that I am a worthy son.” Coulson opened his mouth, but Loki closed his eyes, and he didn't ask the question Loki knew he had. He reopened them and continued. “I let Laufey into Asgard and hid him until he reached Odin's chamber. He had a dagger in his hand to kill Odin when I struck him with a blow that knocked him into a wall. He lived just long enough to know that I had tricked him. And that's when Thor burst in. I had no choice-- I knocked him through the wall and hurried to the Bifrost to set in motion the plan that would end the war with no further loss of Asgardian life. I would do what Thor was unable to do; I would be worthy.”

Loki gulped, trying to calm himself enough to tell his story. Even though it was starting to make no sense to him. How could he have thought that trying to kill Thor would make Odin happy? Coulson held the cup of water up to his lips again, and Loki drained it. He took several deep breaths until he felt calm enough to continue.

“I sent the Bifrost to Jotunnheim, and left it open. It would destroy the planet, thus ending the war with no further Asgardian blood shed. But Thor… Thor wanted to save the Jotunn. Somehow, he'd come to pity them when before he'd only hated them and thought as the rest of us do: that they're monsters. He destroyed the Bifrost rather than let them die. He knew full well he'd never see his woman again if he did. But he broke it anyway.”

“That doesn't explain how you ended up here.”

Loki focused on the ceiling, trying not to relive those awful moments. “The destruction caused us to fly through the air and off the broken bridge. Thor caught the staff I was holding, and Odin caught his ankle. I don't know how Odin did that; he must have woken from his sleep just in time to teleport to us. But I told him I'd done everything for him. And he said, 'No, Loki.' So I let go. I fell into the hole the Bifrost created. I expected to die. But I fell to Midgard instead.”

“Do you still want to die?”

Loki closed his eyes. “I can never have Odin's approval. Nothing I do, _nothing_ , is ever enough. He-- they-- will always see me as a failure. They don't even know I survived; Heimdall can't see me if I don't wish him to. Let them think I'm dead.”

“You didn't answer my question.”

“I don't know.”

Coulson shifted on his chair and then said, “Loki, I am willing to stake my life on one thing. Odin did not reject you. He rejected your _methods_.”

Loki's eyes flew open. “What?” he whispered. But he barely heard Coulson's reply, remembering his last true conversation with Odin. Where Odin had said, “Why must you twist my words?” Had he? Had he really done that? Had he misunderstood all this time?

He didn't even glance over at Coulson when he left the room. His mind was racing with too many thoughts, reordering and reviewing so many things. If Coulson was right… While a large part of him wanted to reject it, to rain destruction down upon this world, any world, to lash out, to prove that he was worthy, that he could do things without getting them wrong, Loki knew that there was a chance Coulson was right. And if he was, that left two questions.

What had he done? And what could he do to prevent it from happening again?

* * * * *

Coulson stood next to Director Fury, both watching in silence through one of the many observation windows as Loki stared at the ceiling, clearly lost in thought. Fury finally said, “What do you think?”

“That he's psychotic. That was not the plan of a sane man. But I'm no psychologist or psychiatrist, sir.”

“The question is whether it was an acute incident or chronic.” Fury turned to one of the doctors hovering behind them. “I want a psychiatrist here as soon as possible.”

Fury turned and walked away. Coulson followed him. “Afterward?”

Fury smiled. “If he can recover from his delusions, we give him what he needs: acceptance and a second chance.”

Coulson raised his eyebrows. “He tried to commit genocide, Director. And you think he could be another member of the Initiative.”

Fury shook his head. “I doubt any of us will trust him enough for that. But someone who can use magic, who can help us learn about it, and the world he came from during a time when his connection to it is low-- he's a valuable asset.”

“If he can't recover?”

“We induce a coma until either the Bifrost is repaired or Doctor Foster can create her own version so he can be returned to Asgard.”

Coulson nodded and turned a corner to return to his own temporary office. Loki had generated far too much paperwork, and there were already murmurs from Weapons Development asking about the Destroyer.

Six hours later, Fury, the psychiatrist Doctor Nelson, and he sat around the table in one of the small conference rooms the Roswell base had. When everyone was settled, Fury said, “Well?”

Doctor Nelson said, “He is an articulate, frighteningly intelligent man. Apart from the suicidal tendencies Loki outright admitted to, the problem with diagnosing him with any mental illness is quite simply the fact that they are _human_ illnesses, and he isn't human. I can only make a provisional diagnosis.”

“What is it?”

Coulson sipped his decaf coffee (even he needed some sleep tonight) and waited for the answer to Fury's question. The psychiatrist fiddled with his pencil before finally saying, “He is recovering from brief reactive psychosis. Beyond that, he is fine.”

“He's able to function, in other words?” Coulson said.

“Very much so, to the point where I'd hesitate even prescribing him an antipsychotic, ignoring the non-human factor. But we can't ignore that factor, and risk harming him.”

“So it is acute,” Fury stated.

“From what he told me, yes. With Thor's banishment, taking the kingship and being betrayed because no one trusted him, and something else he wasn't willing to tell me--”

“Something else?”

The psychiatrist met Fury's eye. “It's important, but he clammed up when I pressed for details. Whatever it is, he hates it. The point being, he broke. The stressors caused him to temporarily lose his mind. In humans with this type of psychosis, symptoms resolve on their own, and in fact, there are already cracks in his delusions. He knows that he wasn't quite sane when he did what he did. If you give him another two or three weeks, he should be fine.”

“So you recommend _waiting_?” Fury asked.

Doctor Nelson shook his head. “He needs therapy to help him work through everything, not just in the short term, but in the long term as well.” He paused and put the pencil down. “His relationship with his family deteriorated rapidly during this time, and I suspect that he was subtly bullied for quite a while previously. The fact that no one trusted him when he had to take the throne tells me quite a bit. Did they not trust him because he wasn't sane or did they not trust him because he was different and didn't fit the norms of Asgardian society? That's the question we need answers to.”

“Answers we have no way to get,” Fury said, tapping the table with his fingers.

Coulson said, “Why wouldn't he fit the norms? Though he mentioned something about being a sorcerer in a warrior society.”

“He told me using magic in battle is perceived as dishonorable.”

“Ah.” Coulson turned to look at Fury. “There is one way we can find answers. We talk to Doctor Foster, and see how much Thor told her of Asgardian society. I'm betting she hasn't told us everything, not with Doctor Selvig's response to us, or our initial meeting.”

Fury nodded. “Find out. You leave for Puente Antiguo in the morning. Doctor Nelson, thank you.”

* * * * *

After Doctor Nelson left his room, Loki fell asleep. He jerked awake several hours later when he heard a scraping noise by the side of his bed. He was helpless and there was an enemy-- Oh. A nurse moving the chair out of the way. She smiled. “Do you need to relieve yourself?”

It was humiliating using a bedpan, but he wasn't even allowed to use the bathroom attached to his cell. Something about making sure his legs were completely healed. (Loki knew they weren't; they ached.) But he also knew it had mostly to do with his mental health. The psychiatrist had agreed with him that he hadn't been-- and may still not be-- entirely sane.

But after the nurse left, Loki lay in bed, unable to get back to sleep, even with a fresh dose of painkillers in his system. His mind kept going over both conversations he had today. There was no way out of this-- he'd been too careless with how he phrased things. He'd have to tell them (Coulson, Nelson, or someone entirely that he hadn't met) that he was adopted, and that he'd found out at the start of it all. It would be yet another cause, and he honestly wasn't sure if he'd be able to keep the entirety of it secret. But for the sake of his sanity, he had to. For the sake of his sanity, he wished he could forget.

* * * * *

He never did manage to get back to sleep, and having someone feed him breakfast was almost as humiliating as using a bedpan. But after breakfast, a black man with an eyepatch (on the opposite side of Odin's, he told himself. The _opposite_ side.) walked in.

“I'm Director Fury of SHIELD. You're in our custody, and will remain so until we-- and you-- decide what to do with you.”

“I'm sorry?” Loki hated not being able to look directly at the people standing or sitting at his bedside. Apart from giving him eyestrain due to constantly keeping his gaze turned to the side, it was rude. While he wasn't above discourtesy when it suited him, this didn't.

“You have two options-- work for us and prove that you aren't a threat or we knock you unconscious and ship you back to Asgard when we can.”

Loki didn't let the sudden surge of hope he felt show on his face. “Work for you how?”

“You're the only person we know of who can use magic. We have no defense against it. We'd like one, and you would be valued.”

Valued. Damn it, how had he given so much away? How had they known he wanted someone (Odin) to look at him and think he mattered, that he was important, that he was trusted? Not a spare, not a stolen relic who had outlived his usefulness, not a tagalong, not a sorcerer. Just Loki, valued for himself, for his skills, for who he is, not what people wanted him to be. “You'd trust me to be honest?”

“The other alternative is always an option.”

Forget himself, he was sure Director Fury was insane. “You want _me_ to work for _you_? Using magic and studying how it interacts with your science. Me, the one who practically demolished a town and didn't kill innocents only because they were evacuated, who nearly killed your people and did severely injure some, who--”

“It is a second chance, Loki. I believe in them, even for you.”

He didn't deserve one. “But there are conditions.” He could tell there was more by the way the man held himself. 

“That you attend therapy until we inform you otherwise.”

Therapy? But that was a given with his injuries-- Oh. Mental therapy. “I don't tell strangers personal matters.”

“You told Coulson and Doctor Nelson quite a lot.” Loki opened his mouth to say that it wasn't the same, but Fury ignored him. “Your psychologist is employed by SHIELD. Doctor McCormack has experience in treating trauma and similar problems. She will be an impartial listener and cannot tell _anyone_ what you tell her. Her reports to me will consist of how well your therapy is proceeding, not the content.”

Loki frowned. “I do not have a choice of people?”

“There are few in this organization I would trust with you. Not for your sake, but for theirs.”

Loki smirked. “Too afraid I'll break their brains?”

Fury frowned. “You of all people should know that isn't something to joke about.”

“I joke about everything.”

“Because it's a defense to prevent being hurt?”

Loki kept his mouth shut. Stupid, arrogant, _observant_ humans. If this was Fury-- who, admittedly, as head of a large secret organization he would know how to watch people for things they were hiding-- he dreaded what his therapist would see.

“I cannot force you to accept these terms.”

“But I don't have much of a choice. You cannot risk me roaming free as I am now, and I have no desire to return to Asgard. I have one condition of my own.” Fury raised his eyebrow. “That you never tell Asgard I am here. It will happen on my own time or not at all.”

Fury nodded. “Done. We will simply keep Doctor Foster and her associates away from anything you might be working on and vice versa.”

“Thank you.”

“Then you will sign the contract?”

“I will.” Loki hoped to everything he once held dear that he hadn't just made the second-biggest mistake of his life. To throw everything he possessed-- his freedom, his half-formed plans, even his sanity-- into the hands of a mortal organization that likely would never trust him, for the possibility of a second chance, one that would make Odin proud if he ever found out. Only time would tell if this decision would be worth it, but right now, at this moment, he thought it was.

* * * * *

Loki sank down on his bed, hands dangling between his knees and glaring at the walker directly in front of him. Between the injuries and the muscle atrophy caused by over two weeks of forced unconsciousness, he could barely walk. That would soon change-- he was nothing if not hardy-- but the physical therapy was difficult and not a little painful. It was the good hurt of muscles working, though. That pain he'd live with.

But he hated needing assistance to walk, and he hated even more that the one thing he wanted most was a hot bath. Even a shower would be nice. But yesterday he'd barely been able to walk around the room three times, and he'd collapsed into bed and slept for three hours immediately afterward. He was sick of sponge baths.

The door slid open behind him and Loki craned his neck to see who it was. The aide with the sense of humor. Good. The ones who didn't talk to him made him anxious and even less inclined to trust SHIELD. The man cracked a smile. “Big day today, Loki. You can take a shower.”

Loki stared at him and then let a smile bleed onto his face. “Unsupervised, I hope.”

He nodded. “I'm just here to make sure you don't fall over on your way there or back.”

Oh, thank Valhalla. Loki reached for the walker and levered himself off the bed. It was slow going those few paces, but then, he was already tired. But if he could shower unsupervised, and therefore could make it to the bathroom on his own-- no more bedpan! This day was looking better and better.

Loki barely glanced at the nurse's aide, who left a clean hospital gown on a hook near the shower, and made a beeline for the shower stall. He sat down on the seat and shucked off his dirty gown and underpants. The aide collected them and said, “Can you reach the controls?”

Loki nodded and the aide yanked the shower curtain closed after pointing out the emergency cord and moving the walker a little further away. Loki turned the water on as hot as he could stand and just sat there, letting it pound onto his body. He leaned back against the cool tiles and just _relaxed_. He heard the door to the bathroom shut and closed his eyes. This was bliss, and everything he had hoped for.

Though after everything he'd been through, why did it have to be the simplest thing-- a hot shower-- that made him tear up? Not the pain, not the physical and mental exhaustion, not the hope Fury had offered him. A simple hot shower.

But it had, and there was no use in pretending it didn't. No one would be able to tell if he'd been crying or not. (He had the feeling his therapist would say that it was healthier than bottling it up.) But he though he tried to shy away from thinking about one of the last times he'd shed tears, he couldn't. That argument with Fath-- Odin about him being Jotunn, about him being a stolen relic… He'd been so angry and frustrated and scared. What would have happened if Odin hadn't fallen into the Odinsleep right then? What would have happened?

But he couldn't change the past, and he couldn't ever have answers to that question. He couldn't have answers for anything involving Jotunnheim now, so it was time to do what he'd learned to do with everything else that had hurt him: banish the conversation to the recesses of his mind, not to think about them. It never worked as well as he would have liked, but then, what had?

Loki wiped the water from his face and reached for the nearest bottle in the rack built into the wall. Shampoo. Yes, his hair needed cleaning desperately. After he'd done that and used the body wash, Loki just sat there, letting the glorious hot water run over him, wondering what he'd do with the rest of the afternoon. Read, probably. Coulson had brought him something called an iPad, and it was full of books about Midgard. Loki knew he wouldn't be able to learn many cultural mores from the books, but a thorough grounding in history (not just the bits and pieces he'd picked up on his travels) would help immensely. And later Coulson would stop by with dinner (for some reason, he tended to eat with Loki, and Loki didn't understand why anyone would voluntarily be in his company for more than a few minutes) and he'd take Loki's decision about what clothing he'd wear after he was released. It had been a bit of a fight to get him to understand that in no way, shape, or form would Loki wear a SHIELD uniform. It would send a message that he wasn't sure he was ready to give, and he knew for a fact that scientists didn't have to, though they did have their own dress code. It was one he could live with. When he wasn't working, well, Loki felt he'd still be more comfortable in slacks and a button-down shirt than anything more casual. Midgard could be informal, but Loki wasn't willing to unbend that far.

The nurse's aide had to practically drag him from the shower an hour later.

* * * * *

Loki stepped into his quarters at SHIELD New York and dropped his duffel bag containing the entirety of his possessions (his armor was elsewhere and inaccessible to him, he'd been informed) on the floor. Coulson shut the door behind them and flipped on the lights. “It isn't much, I know--”

“It isn't a cell. That much, I am thankful for.” Loki frowned. This was… disappointing. A bed against the left wall with a small round table and two chairs at its foot, a dresser and desk against the right wall, and a bathroom immediately on his right with a small closet between its door and the rest of the room. A picture hung above the nightstand, and Loki wondered if he'd be able to pick something else. A faded print of potted flowers was not his style. The carpet was serviceable, and just as bland and inoffensive as the rest of the room. “These are meant to be temporary quarters, are they not?”

“Not for you,” Coulson said. “Feel free to decorate as you wish.”

“The first thing to go will be that painting.” Loki gestured at the half-empty bag and at the closet filled with the style and colors of clothes he'd picked out from catalogs last week. “Who does laundry?”

“If you'd agreed to wear the uniforms, SHIELD. But you didn't, so you do it yourself. There's a laundry room at the end of the hallway.”

Loki bit his lip. “I'm unsure how.”

“Yet you know the basics of cooking here.”

Loki turned to him, eyebrows raised. “I am not entirely ignorant of your culture and technology, Coulson. But my knowledge is… spotty.”

“Hence the books.”

Loki grinned. “Not just hence. _Always_.”

“I'll show you SHIELD's library on the tour, then, though it is biased toward political and legal situations you don't have the context for. There is a fiction section, however. You may enjoy that.”

Loki shrugged. Midgardian fiction was either hit or miss for him. Most of the time, it was too concerned with everyday struggles and not with the fates of worlds. But now that he was here for as long as he wished (or until SHIELD grew too worried), he'd have a better chance at finding something he'd like. Hopefully.

He poked his head in the bathroom, noted toiletries-- including the gel he'd been using to slick back his hair-- and turned back to Coulson. “Unpack now or tour first?”

Coulson shrugged. “I'd unpack now. You don't have much, and you still tire easily. The tour will take a while.”

Loki nodded, swiftly unpacked (three changes of clothes he never wear again save when he exercised and his iPad), and gestured at the door. “Ready?”

Coulson was correct-- the tour was long and thorough, and began with the medical wing. They'd ended up in the cafeteria (where he'd be eating all his meals) for a cup of coffee when they were halfway through, and while Loki wasn't completely well yet, it was impossible to hide that little bit of manipulation from him. It was kindly meant, though, and he appreciated it.

The tour concluded in the small lab that had been set aside for Loki's work. Coulson made sure he could find his way back to his quarters (not difficult-- up three stories, down two hallways, and the third door on the right) and left him alone. Loki sat down in the lone chair and spun slowly around, looking at everything.

One of those see-through screens SHIELD loved on the desk in front of him, three hanging from the ceiling and attached to railings so they could be moved, and tables against all the walls. There were two under-desk storage compartments filled with instruments and scanners and tools. Everything was white and gleaming metal and ready for him to do what?

Loki rubbed his forehead. He had no idea what Fury wanted from him. A defense against magic, sure. But what sort of magic? Was it meant for a physical space (likely), or software (laughably easy to manipulate here), or a mental space (he wouldn't touch that one), or something else entirely? Magical weapons, maybe. Though he wouldn't give Midgard even a bit of an advantage against Asgard's forces. That was one thing he wondered if he'd made plain enough-- that his loyalty (however shattered it may be) belonged to Asgard. He wouldn't betray his home.

Funny how he could still think of Asgard as home when he couldn't think of Odin and Thor as his family.

He dropped his hand when the door slid open and Director Fury walked in with a computer of some sort underneath his arm. He handed it to Loki and he set it on the desk without looking at it. “It's your first assignment. There's no hurry.”

Loki raised his eyebrows. “I rather suspect otherwise. This is a test of how far I'm willing to go and how much you can trust me.” Fury said nothing. Smart man. Loki continued, “Or maybe there really is no hurry, because you need to see what I can do before you give me other projects. Make-work, as it were.”

“All of the above, if you prefer. If you need equipment, ask for it. Coulson showed you how to use the requisition forms?”

“He did.” Loki twirled the chair around to the computer and put the screen in place, a document automatically appearing. SHIELD wasn't fooling around-- a cell designed to hold a magic user and a portable restraint system. This should prove interesting.

Child's play, of course. But he'd need to test the materials here on Earth for suitability, which would undoubtedly take longer. Oh, this was going to be _fun_. (Even though he understood full well he was the only sorcerer SHIELD knew about. Even though SHIELD had run and would continue to run experiments on his magic. Even though this was a test to see if he was willing to build something to contain himself. Even though he knew he would.)

Loki began scrolling through other documents, discarding half of them as useless. He relaxed when the door shut after Fury left the lab. No one stood over his shoulder watching him, so it was time to get to work.

* * * * *

Loki stood outside his therapist's door and fiddled with the cuff of one of his sleeves. Doctor McCormack had seemed nice enough over the phone, but in person? And she wanted him to talk about himself. This was not a good idea. But he had no choice; he'd agreed to do it. And while he could and did go back on his word, he wasn't going to throw away his second chance because he was uneasy. Frightened, even. If he revealed to her something that would change her mind, Fury's mind… He didn't want to return to Asgard unless he had solid proof that he could be accepted.

Therapy was just a step on the road. But it was a farce to think that Loki would receive any help from it.

Loki knocked on the door and entered when his psychologist said, “Come in.” The brown-haired woman smiled at him, and gestured at the seat in front of her desk. “Please close the door and sit down. It's nice to finally meet you in person.”

Loki did as instructed. “Likewise.”

He settled back-- the chair was surprisingly comfortable-- and just looked at her. He had no real idea of what he was supposed to do.

Doctor McCormack moved the keyboard away from her and looked at him. “How do you like it here?”

Simple, easy question. “It is rather different than I expected. My quarters are small, but my work is engaging.” That was safe enough, right?

“So what were you expecting?” Apparently not.

“Less freedom, for one. I thought I would be escorted to and from wherever Fury decided to stick me.” He fingered his ID badge (he had yet to fully wrap his mind around the fact that he had hard limits where he could go without punishment; it was too different to his life as a prince). “Yet I have chambers that I'm not locked into. I'm trusted with a lab of my own, tasked to create something that can contain me, and Fury trusts I will do it. I have access to the library, and not just the entertainment section.”

“You would prefer to be locked up?”

“It would make more sense!” Loki began picking at the edge of his thumbnail before abruptly stopping when McCormack glanced at his hands. “You know what I've done, what I'm capable of.”

“What would Odin do?”

Loki opened his mouth and then shut it, trying desperately to think. He automatically checked that the protections against Heimdall were still in place, and then said, “At best? Imprisonment. Worst and most likely? Execution. He'd be perfectly justified in outlawing me, or turning me over to the Jotunn. I would receive no leniency.”

“Even though he's your father?”

“He's not my father!” Loki snarled, gripping the armrests. Oh, _shit_. He hadn't meant to say that. He took several deep breaths to calm himself. McCormack hadn't flinched, though one hand hovered near a button set into the surface of her desk. Something to bring armed guards, probably. It didn't look newly installed, so it may not have been just for him. What sort of people did SHIELD regularly employ?

“In a situation like this, Odin would be acting as king. He banished Thor for disobeying him as king, not father. He would be no more tolerant of me.”

“Yet Thor had a way to return.”

Loki laughed, not bothering to hide the bitterness. “When he was worthy. I am never worthy, never seen, never appreciated. Odin would punish me all the harder. I am nothing to him.”

“You are his son.”

Loki clenched his jaw, trying not to flinch at the near-exact phrasing McCormack had unwittingly used. _You are my son_. Not his son, never his son. Loki, seeing her waiting patiently for a response, finally shook his head.

McCormack sighed. “I don't know what you mean by that.”

Loki said nothing. If the mortal was too stupid to realize the implications, then he wasn't going to enlighten her.

She sighed and rubbed her temples. “It means one of three things, Loki. One-- you disowned him. Two-- he disowned you, which is unlikely given the circumstances of your parting. Three-- you're adopted.”

Maybe not so stupid after all. Loki loosened his fingers from the armrests and put them in his lap, where he wouldn't further harm furniture, and just stared at them. “The first and the last.”

McCormack nodded. “Does he know you've disowned him?”

Loki said, “No. I-- I don't know what I want to do. I guess I haven't. I took Fury's offer to find a way to make Odin proud.” He looked up at her. “Why are we even talking about this? I thought you'd want to talk about the genocide, not my family life.”

McCormack smiled. “I need to understand the circumstances are surrounding it. From what you told Agent Coulson and Doctor Nelson, your family is intimately wrapped up in your actions.” Loki snorted. She really had no idea. “When did you find out you were adopted?”

“Less than a day after Thor was banished, literally seconds before Odin fell into the Odinsleep. We… we were discussing it, and…” Loki began breathing hard, trying not to think about it, the confirmation that he was everyone's worst nightmare, that he was _his_ worst nightmare.

“Loki.” He glanced up at her, trying to keep his temper and not lash out. “I don't need to know the details yet. You clearly aren't ready, and while there will be times I will push you, sending you into a panic attack or worse is not my goal. Do you understand that?” He nodded. “I just need to know one more thing before we change the subject: was this what you were hiding from Doctor Nelson and Agent Coulson?”

Loki nodded again, unable to speak. Not the whole of it, and McCormack had just promised him that she wouldn't let the subject go until she had the whole of it, but she'd given him time. Time that he needed to confront it himself. Maybe he'd even do that.

“What dissatisfies you about your quarters?”

Loki nearly laughed. But he knew himself well enough that if he'd've done that, he'd've ended up crying. “Apart from everything?”

She quirked a smile at him. “Aside from the addition of a kitchen, I doubt you'd find any apartment you can afford to be better.”

“At least I could pick out my own furniture!”

“What's wrong with it?”

Loki allowed himself to relax a bit. “It's bland. Institutional. It doesn't fit my personality at all.”

“What would?”

Loki closed his eyes. “Hardwood furniture, not the cheap fiberboard with a veneer. Greens, golds, and bronzes instead of beige. Lamps lighting the sides of the room, not the fluorescent overhead. A comfortable chair to read in. I don't need the dresser; my clothes hang in my closet, and there are hanging shelves that I can requisition-- or buy-- to replace the one small drawer I require. A bookcase.”

“Anything else?”

Oh, he could name hundreds of things, almost none of which were obtainable and all of which were impractical in the space he had. “No.”

“Then why don't you speak to Requisitions about making your quarters seem more like a place you'd like to live in?”

“I… I don't know what to ask them. I've never had to do anything like that before. I could just buy things.”

Doctor McCormack pulled a sheet of paper out of a drawer and handed it and a pen to him. “Make a list of what you just told me. It'll be easier on both you and whoever you end up talking to. You're going to have to get used to talking to them anyway.”

Loki smiled. “Coulson warned me about that. Forms in triplicate for a container of paperclips.”

McCormack laughed. “Not quite that bad, but close. A bookcase?”

Loki shrugged and began writing the list. “Any suggestions? I'm afraid I don't know good literature here and have no desire to waste my time.”

She tapped her lips with a finger. “Have you read _Beowulf_?” Loki shook his head. “You'd probably like it. If you don't, I can tailor future suggestions away from that sort of thing.”

“Thank you.” He put the pen down on her desk. “Now what?”

McCormack studied him. “I think we've done enough today.”

Loki stood up and folded the paper so it fit in his pant's pocket. “Tomorrow, then?”

She nodded and Loki left the room. He shut the door behind him and sighed. Tomorrow, the day after that, and the day after that. Every weekday, at eight AM, until he was otherwise informed.

He shook his head and set off down the hall, heading out of the medical wing, and down to Requisitions. McCormack would certainly ask him about it tomorrow, and there really was no excuse he'd be able to give her about why he hadn't. “I didn't feel like it” was never a good one. If he was lucky, he'd be able to get most of it. He had his doubts about the furniture.

* * * * *

They'd been dancing around the topic for several weeks now and when Loki walked into McCormack's office just over a month since his first appointment, he knew from the serious look on her face there was no more avoiding it. He nearly walked right back out the open door, but he didn't fancy facing Fury's wrath. So he closed the door, sat down, and folded his hands in his lap. Let her make the first move, and he could see how to counter her.

She smiled gently at him. “I know this will be difficult for you today, Loki, but the time has come for us to discuss the circumstances surrounding the discovery you were adopted.”

Loki opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to find a way to work a _please, no, anything but this_ that didn't make him sound like a whiny child or a sulking adolescent. Finally, he managed to force out, “Now?”

McCormack nodded. “We can't avoid it. It's too involved in what you're here for.”

Loki slumped and stared down at his hands. His pale, not-blue hands. They'd never be blue again if he had anything to say about it. _He wasn't Jotunn_.

Softly, so softly he wasn't sure she could hear it, he said, “We were on Jotunnheim, and we were fighting our way back to the Bifrost site, because Thor had been so _stupid_. Volstagg was grabbed by a Jotunn and it gave him frostbite. He shouted a warning about their touch, but it was seconds after that another soldier grabbed my arm. I wasn't burned.

“When we returned to Asgard, after Thor's banishment, I went down to the weapons vault and picked up the Casket of Ancient Winters. It's a Jotunn artifact, their most powerful. It lets them, well, it acts as a sort-of Bifrost for them, and is also a weapon of extraordinary power, turning whole tracts of land into frozen wastelands. It was the only thing I could think of. Picking it up would reveal the truth. I'd hoped that it was just a curse.

“I'm Jotunn.” He met McCormack's eyes in sudden fury. “ _Jotunn_. I'm the monster under the bed, the one everyone fears.” He stood up too fast, knocking the chair over, and walked over to the wall near the door, leaning a hand on it and facing away from her. He covered his eyes with his other arm. “Odin found me as an abandoned infant. He took me not out of compassion, but as a political pawn. I'm Laufey's son, you see. But Odin never made use of me.”

“Did he say why?” McCormack asked, her voice gentle but somehow calm, as if she'd expected him to fly into a rage.

“Just that I was his son. And then he fell into the Odinsleep.” Loki stopped leaning on the wall and turned around, an angry, bitter smile on his lips. “I don't know anything save that I am a stolen relic who finally had a reason why I was always second-best. I'm not his son; I never have been. And I could never live up to his expectations because I'm a Frost Giant.”

Loki stood there, trembling, waiting for her to do something, anything. She merely put her pen down and looked at him. “You can remain standing, pace if you think it'll help. But at least pick up the chair.”

Loki stared at her and then did so. He leaned his hands on its back and then gave in to the sudden exhaustion and sat down. He met her eyes. “What now?”

“First of all: on Earth, we-- unless they're bigots-- don't call people monsters just because they're different. You don't call humans monsters just because we aren't Asgardian. Why do you call the Frost Giants monsters?”

Loki gazed at her desktop. Academics he could handle. “They're nearly equally matched to Asgard when they have the Casket. They invaded your world and tried to turn it into another Jotunnheim, with no thought of the humans who would die, who had no chance to fight and win against such foes. It's dishonorable and cowardly.”

“And this taints the entire species, for eternity?” Loki wrinkled his forehead. “What I'm trying to get at is that-- Loki, have you ever heard the saying, 'History is written by the victors?'” He shook his head. “What do you know about Jotunnheim's culture and customs?”

Loki stared at her. “Almost nothing. Traveling to Jotunnheim was forbidden, for everyone save Odin. Are-- are you saying that Asgard is deliberately taught to think of them as monsters, because it justifies us keeping the Casket, keeping them downtrodden and unable to truly rebuild from the war? That we aren't to know anything about them, because it would make them seem like people?”

“Yes.”

Loki's head was spinning. This was too much. The Jotunn as non-monsters (or at least not _as_ monstrous), being deliberately taught to hate himself… “Why?”

“Why what?”

Loki gulped. “Why did Odin…” He waved a hand around. Silvertongue, ha.

“I don't know,” she said, sympathy written in every inch of body language. “But you have a choice now-- to continue to think of yourself as a monster or to change your mind.”

Loki looked up at her, tears welling in his eyes. “I-- I can't do this right now.” He reached up with his right hand and tugged his hair. “I can't.”

“All right. Are you at least able to give me an explanation about something?”

Loki put his hand down. “That depends.”

“Why you can touch people and not harm them.”

“Oh.” Loki waved a hand at his body. “I only turn into my true form when I'm touched by a Jotunn or hold the Casket. Otherwise, this is me. Asgardian.”

“And no one knew the truth?”

“Only Odin and Frigga. I'm a shapeshifter, a good one. My physiology changes completely. I'm indistinguishable from any other Asgardian. Even the healers couldn't tell.”

“So this is your natural form?”

Loki shook his head. “My natural form is _Jotunn_.”

McCormack smiled. “That is your native form, not your natural one.” Loki hardly dared to breath. “You were raised as an Asgardian, in an Asgardian body. Your brain thinks of yourself as Asgardian. You, unlike many people on this planet, have the ability to match your body to what your mind knows is true. You are a shapeshifter, Loki. You never have to appear in a form you do not wish to. _How you look now is your natural form_.”

“But I'm still a Jotunn by birth,” he whispered.

“Yes. But you never, ever have to appear as one. This is your body, Loki, and your life. You have the form of an Asgardian, you have the upbringing of an Asgardian, and you think in the bottom of your heart that you _are_ Asgardian. That is the only thing that matters here. The _only_ thing.”

Loki stared at her and then stood up. “I… I need to think.”

McCormack said nothing to stop him as he fled her office.

* * * * *

He didn't see her for two days. Surprisingly enough, Fury didn't hound him about it-- he didn't even see or hear from Fury-- and Coulson simply asked him at lunch the first day if everything was fine. Too obviously shattered and busy reforming his worldview (selfview), he simply shook his head. Coulson stayed with him for the rest of the meal, and then left him alone.

Loki tinkered in his lab. Rather than try to work (he'd be useless), he distracted himself by digging into the computer code and figuring out ways to make it more compatible with how he thought. The interface was too cumbersome and unintuitive, touchscreen or not. But it was just that: a distraction, and he couldn't help but replay their conversation over and over, mixing it up with Odin's, and everything he'd ever learned about the Jotunn.

He still wished he had never found out, or if he had, that he'd known since he was a child. Letting him find out the way he had when he was just over a thousand years old… That was one of the cruelest things Odin had ever done to him. And then to say he no longer matters?

Loki sighed and shoved aside the computer screen. Coulson had said Odin had rejected his methods, and he'd begun to think he had misunderstood. But had he? For his protection, Odin had said. Protection from what?

From everything and everyone on Asgard. None of the warriors would take kindly to a Jotunn prince, or someone Odin raised in his own family, even if it would be temporary. And an alliance? Over what? Laufey clearly didn't want him; he'd outright abandoned him in the cold in what was likely a battle or would be shortly. His own father-- no, he wasn't the son of Laufey and he'd indirectly said that to his face. He was Odin's son, for better or for worse.

Which led to one conclusion: Odin's plan no longer mattered because he knew it wasn't feasible.

Loki told McCormack as much when he finally reappeared in her office. She nodded and then looked rather thoughtful. “Or maybe there was a more important reason: that he was unwilling to risk your life in a probably futile attempt to build a bridge between your worlds.”

“But why would he care? Laufey hadn't. Laufey didn't want me; why would Odin?”

“Because he's your father.”

“What?”

McCormack sighed. “I'd rather have you figure things out on your own, Loki, but you're missing the obvious, and you've been missing it for three months. Odin kept repeating, 'You are my son' as explanation because, to most people, it's all the reason they need. Break it down.”

“Into what? He raised me as a son, so he's my father.”

“Keep going.”

“He didn't want to see me hurt because I'm his son.” McCormack nodded. “If he hadn't cared about me, he wouldn't care if I was hurt. He wanted to protect me from being hurt.” Loki stopped, finally-- far, far too late to change anything-- understanding. “He loves me. Then why couldn't he just _say_ that? Why did he have to natter on about plans and protecting me?”

“He thought he did.”

Loki slumped. “And then I had to go and plot an elaborate scheme that failed, and he rejected me. If he loves me--” Loki stopped, breathing hard.

“Go on.”

“If he loves me, why didn't he try to make an effort to better understand me? Frigga did. Why didn't Odin? Why didn't Thor? Why did they always have to judge me by what society expected instead of what I accomplished?” Loki shook his head. “I can't do this further, Doctor. Not today. Not with everything you told me a couple of days ago. We have time.” He half-smiled. “I'm not going anywhere.”

McCormack looked at him. “You can't keep running from this, Loki.”

“I'm not a coward!” He took a deep breath. Cultural issues. She wouldn't understand how even the implication could cost. It didn't here, not nearly as much. “I do better when I can think things through on my own before I discuss them.”

“That's normal for introverts.”

Loki flashed her a brief smile. “But I'm not yet done sorting out the whole… body… issue. I can't handle rearranging the entirety of my life-- again-- this week. It's just too much.”

“Something simple, then. Tell me about the first spell you mastered.”

Loki grinned, shoving as best he could the worry and panic and fear to the back of his mind. This he could easily speak about.

* * * * *

Two weeks later, Loki stood outside the door to MedLab 3, holding a small silver briefcase in his left hand. Fury was already inside, talking to the doctor who would be monitoring Loki. Loki glanced behind him when he heard footsteps. Coulson said, “Ready?”

Loki shook his head, but opened the door nonetheless. This would not be the most pleasant way to spend an afternoon, but it needed to be done. Fury wouldn't accept the magic-blocking restraints unless Loki proved they worked. And he was the only sorcerer on Midgard he knew about. (He'd started wondering if SHIELD knew about others.)

Loki set the briefcase on top of an empty table and opened it. He stepped back to let Fury look at the collar and the cuffs. Fury picked one of the cuffs up and examined it. “Do they have to be made out of metal?”

Loki nodded. “The metal gives the blocking material strength; it's too easy to break out of them otherwise. There are three contact points in the collar-- one of which must center on the spine-- and two in the cuffs. The cuffs go on first, and should be enough to block a less-powerful sorcerer. Everything is fully adjustable; they could even fit a child.” Fury eyeballed him. “If you have a child who can't control her magic, what else are you going to do? It would hopefully be a temporary measure in that situation, but my point remains.”

“Do they work on you?” Fury asked.

Loki gulped. This was the unpleasant part. “They should. They'll even lock me in whatever shape I'm in.” (That had been an… _interesting_ … conversation he'd had with Fury. McCormack hadn't kept the fact that he was a shapeshifter private; it was a security issue, even though the mere thought of shifting into another shape made him ill now.)

“Well then. Let's get started.”

Loki sighed and unbuttoned his shirt. He tossed it onto the table next to the briefcase and looked at the doctor. “Over here, please, Loki.”

Loki eyed the brainwave monitor, but sat down and let the doctor slide the cap of electrodes onto his head. He'd done this before-- no moving, keep his eyes closed as much as possible, etc., etc. They had baselines for him, and there was absolutely no risk. But the restraints… He shuddered when he remembered the ones he'd worn on Asgard a couple of times, when Odin thought one of his escapades went too far. Well, this was no different. It just wouldn't be punishment.

Coulson stepped closer to him, a cuff in hand, and Loki closed his eyes. The doctor said something about recording, and then Coulson said, “Loki, a spell we can see, please.” Easy and visible-- he made his hands glow gold.

And Coulson locked the cuff around Loki's left wrist.

Loki's immediate reaction was to panic, but he quashed it. It was just temporary. Then the second cuff snapped around his right wrist. Not so bad; he could still use his magic and maintain the spell. It was hard, but he could. Then the collar closed around his neck.

Loki felt his magic snap behind a barrier and felt the blood drain from his face. He tried to do something, anything, and couldn't. He let out a deep breath. He'd done as asked-- create a restraint system that could hold him. The designs for the cell weren't quite done, but this would be enough to make him safe if he ever lost control again.

They were on him for less than five minutes, taken off in the same order they were placed on. Loki kept his eyes closed until the cap was removed from his head. He reached up and tried to comb his hair into some semblance of order with his fingers, but gave up. He'd put some gel in once he locked himself into his room. Right now, he didn't want to be around anyone.

Coulson said, “Loki?”

“I'm fine. I just hate those things.”

“Yet you made them to restrain yourself,” Fury said.

Loki nodded and met his eye. “You don't trust me. I don't trust me. Just in case… I wanted something that could contain me.” He levered himself out of the chair and walked over to the table. He put his shirt back on, using the motion as an excuse to turn his back on the three men and pull his composure back together. It just had to hold long enough for the walk to his quarters. That's all.

He turned back around and watched Fury pack the restraints into their case. The director asked, “How long will it take to make more?”

“If I do it, about a day per set now that I have the equipment and materials. But SHIELD can manufacture them fairly easily.”

“Do they hurt you?”

Loki shook his head. “When I handle them, my hands go a little numb if I touch a contact point. Wearing them… it isn't pleasant, but it doesn't hurt. They're mostly like any other restraint system-- frustrating and they can hurt you if you struggle against them.”

“Mostly.”

Fury would catch that. “It's hard to explain to someone who doesn't use-- or even understand-- magic. In my case, magic is so much a part of who I am that blocking it feels like someone removed a part of me.” He paused. “The best analogy I can come up with is Odin removing Thor's power. This doesn't make me mortal, but it limits me about as effectively as it limited him.”

Coulson said, “It didn't slow him down much.”

Loki grinned, letting a hint of mischief show. “He couldn't control the thunder. His physical strength… that's him. And even that was limited.”

“How strong are you?”

Loki shrugged. “Compared to a human, stronger. Compared to Thor… I've never been renowned for my combat skills. I can fight, but I use throwing knives and magic. My strength is not in brute force.”

Coulson nodded and Fury said, “Is there anything else you're not telling us?”

Apart from the fact that if he wanted to, he could outthink all of them and lead them without Fury even realizing it? “No.”

Fury raised his eyebrow, but didn't push him. He was savvy enough to know that Loki didn't trust _them_ either, no matter the second chance and opportunities they'd given him. That, combined with how Fury treated everyone-- hard but fair, with his own moral code he wasn't willing to compromise on, with his own plans running silently beneath the Council's-- had earned him Loki's respect.

“Are we done here?” Fury asked the doctor, who nodded.

Loki breathed a sigh of relief when Fury locked the briefcase and took it with him. Hopefully, he would never see the restraints again. Coulson stayed with him all the way back to his quarters. He studied Loki as he unlocked his door. “Are you sure you're all right?”

Loki smiled. It wouldn't do to antagonize the one person here he may be able to call a friend. “I just need some time alone. I meant it when I said they're unpleasant. I think I'll spend the rest of the afternoon reading.”

Coulson nodded and set off down the corridor. Loki slipped into his room and locked the door behind him. He kicked off his shoes, sank down into the chair he'd requisitioned, and returned to the rather ridiculous but strangely enjoyable book about dragonriders on a world with carnivorous Thread another scientist had recommended a couple of days ago when Loki had emerged from his lab in search of fresh coffee.

* * * * *

Loki calmly put his fork down on his plate of spaghetti and looked up at the two people who had sat down at his table. He deliberately ate at off hours, especially on the weekends, in order to avoid being drawn into inane conversations he wouldn't be able to follow (not having a TV and not caring a damn bit about sports). Yes, McCormack was worried about him making friends, but he didn't care. He'd spent centuries on the outskirts. What were a few more months?

“I'm reading,” he said, gesturing at his iPad.

The man smirked. “Interesting name. I thought it was Loki.”

The redheaded woman sighed. “Ignore Clint. He can be a bit of an asshole.”

Loki smirked. “So can I. Now go away.” Neither one of them moved. “Or at least introduce yourselves properly.”

The woman said, “Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton.”

Loki's eyes widened. He'd heard of them. Multiple times, mostly from Coulson. It was the rumors swirling about SHIELD that he'd found more intriguing. “Did Coulson set this up?”

Romanoff shook her head. “I was curious and Clint--”

“I was there when we found you. I wanted to see how you're doing.”

Loki picked up his fork and poked at the spaghetti. Even for this cafeteria, it was nearly inedible. “I'm fine.”

The two exchanged a look. Romanoff said, “We don't think so. Coulson's told us some, but he said he can't bring up the subject of you doing something apart from reading without you snapping at him.”

“Nice of you to be concerned.” Loki took a bite of spaghetti. He may as well finish; he was hungry. Living on Midgard for four months had taught him not to be picky, even though the food was dissimilar in most respects to what he'd grown up with. (He missed it. He really did.)

“Have you even left the building?” Barton asked.

Loki froze. “I'm not allowed.” And with Odin's ravens, he dared not risk it.

Romanoff chuckled and leaned forward, lowering her voice. “The _god of mischief_ is _obeying_.”

Loki gave up and pushed his plate away from him. “I'm not a god. If I disobey, there is a fair chance that Fury will think I am up to something nefarious and deport me to Asgard when he has the chance.”

Barton frowned. “You're really scared about that, aren't you?”

Loki glared at him. “You--”

“Enough,” Romanoff said. “You do have some leeway, and I think you're freaking him out by _not_ doing something. You've been on Earth for four months.”

Loki sighed. “You are not going to take no for an answer, are you?” They shook their heads. “Where are we going?”

Barton said, “We'll show you the city, feed you some good food for once. I don't know how you can stand to eat this shit day in and day out.”

“I don't have much choice; my quarters don't have a kitchen.”

Romanoff rolled her eyes. “Did they think you were going to burn down the building or something?”

Loki shrugged. “I can think of half a dozen ways off the top of my head to do rather nasty things with one. I'm sure Fury thought of more.”

“You're in the temporary living quarters?”

“Obviously, Barton. I don't mind; I was able to decorate it how I wished.”

“But--”

“Don't.” Loki eyed his plate, wondering if grabbing it and stabbing the spaghetti with his fork would be enough of a hint. He looked at Barton. Probably not.

“Well, then,” Romanoff said, standing up. “Let's go.”

Loki groaned and remained where he was. The urge to leave this place was nearly overwhelming. “I have no cash.” Romanoff frowned. “My paycheck is electronic. Some is taken out for room and board, and save for a hundred dollars I use on books every month, the rest pays my weregild to Puente Antiguo.”

“Weregild?” she said.

Loki frowned. “It's… restitution for the damages I caused. It may not be justice under your legal system, but it is under mine.”

Romanoff put her hand down next to his on the table, careful not to touch him. A good thing, because he wasn't quite sure how he'd react. “That was millions of dollars. There's no way you can pay for it all.”

“Coulson said it would take decades. I have them.”

Barton stood and picked up the plate. “I saw the damage, Loki. At least you're trying to make up for it.”

“If you know that, why do you even want to talk to me, much less spend several hours in my company?”

Romanoff smiled. “You aren't the only person here with a less-than-stellar past.”

Loki doubted they knew everything. If they did, they wouldn't speak to him. But he shrugged-- they clearly wouldn't leave him alone-- picked up his iPad, and said, “I need to drop this off before we leave, and pick up my wallet.”

They went back to his quarters, where Romanoff made a beeline for his bookcase while he fetched his wallet from a shelf in the closet. He hadn't need to use it or the identification cards contained therein before now. She asked, “What were you reading?”

Loki smiled. “Something Coulson recommended-- _Lord of the Rings_. I'm enjoying it so far.”

“Where are you?”

“Gandalf describing his imprisonment in Isengard, so I have a fair ways to go.”

Barton said, “When you're done, we'll have to watch the movies.”

“As long as you keep quiet about the archery,” Romanoff muttered, brushing past him on their way out the door. “Let Loki enjoy it the first time, okay?”

Loki studied Barton on the way down to the lobby. He had the muscles to arch, but could a human really be that good? He'd have Barton demonstrate for him later. That would be something to see if he was.

Getting through the lobby put a grin on Loki's face. The guard nearest the door did a double-take when he saw the three of them, and he did get on his comm system, but he didn't stop them-- or Loki in particular-- from leaving. And then Loki was outside for the first time in months.

The city hit him with a wall of cacophony and stench and color and heat. Romanoff lay a hand on his arm, but he didn't shake off the contact. “Loki?”

He looked down at her. “I'm fine. It's a bit overwhelming, but I expect I'll adjust. Asgard was a large city as well.” And much prettier, he added silently to himself. Human architecture in New York was ugly, and there wasn't nearly enough flowing water or green space for his tastes. “Where first?”

Barton said, “I thought we'd wander. There's a lot to do here, and you should know the immediate area.”

Loki nodded in complete agreement. It was one thing to know it on a map, another thing entirely to know it on street level, with the crowds and stores and escape routes that most would never notice. He wasn't even being paranoid; it had simply been drummed into his head over the centuries that you never, ever let yourself be trapped in a location you didn't know. Wandering with two people who understood that was a treat. The first thing they did was buy him a hat so he would be less distinguishable from the air.

They ended up stopping midafternoon for ice cream cones-- Loki discovered he preferred the chocolate/vanilla swirl-- and then spent the next two hours at the library, where Natasha had to almost physically drag him away from the building while Clint laughed and promised to take him onto its roof one day.

As they walked down the steps, Clint said, “There's a place that serves a mean curry not too far from here.”

Loki shrugged. “As long as it's better than what the cafeteria serves, I'll be satisfied.”

Natasha said, “Do you like spicy food?”

“I do.”

“Then let's go,” she said, and took the lead.

Late that night-- they'd only returned to SHIELD after ten-- Loki collapsed onto his bed with a smile. It had been a pleasant diversion. More than that, really. It was the beginnings of a friendship, one that had secrets kept on all sides. Maybe he'd seek them out, or maybe he'd let them rest. He hadn't decided which. But he had decided to not avoid Clint and Natasha. It would be nice to have friends on his own terms for once, out from Thor's shadow.

* * * * *

Four and a half weeks later, he'd watched the _Lord of the Rings_ movies with Clint, Natasha, and (for the first one only) Coulson. _Loki's_ complaining about the archery and swordplay was enough to set Clint off, and their combined snarking had cemented their friendship. Also, Clint really was as good at archery as he said. He'd earned the kenning Hawkeye.

But something McCormack had said a little while back had begun to weigh on his mind. And given the little he knew of what SHIELD did, what his new friends did, he wasn't comfortable asking them. He really only had one choice.

He sat down in the chair and didn't smile back at his therapist. “McCormack, what makes humans call someone a monster?”

She frowned. “What happened?”

He waved a hand, brushing aside the question. “You said that only bigots call humans monsters for little reason. So what makes a good reason?”

She sighed and looked down at her notebook. “Major things-- child rape, child abuse, serial killings, rape, forcing people to do things against their will, deliberately killing civilians in a war…” She lifted her head and looked up at him, solidly meeting his eyes. “Genocide.”

Loki felt his breath leave him as if he'd been punched in the gut. He had; it was simply metaphorical. “When were you going to tell me?”

“Not until I was sure you would be able to handle the truth.”

Loki twisted his hands into his untucked shirt. “So all your work in convincing me that I'm not a monster because I'm Jotunn is for naught? You still think I'm a monster.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Because of my actions, not my birth.” He released his shirt and stood up. “You have been an enormous help to me so far, but right now, I want nothing to do with you.” _Or myself_.

He left the room, left the medical wing, left the building. He walked the streets, hands in his pockets, uncaring about the swell of humanity around him. McCormack _had_ genuinely helped him, and in fact sought not to hurt him. Had he been justified in walking out? Possibly not. But it was information he'd known she was going to tell him. He'd read too many books to postulate otherwise. But it had still hurt having his suspicions confirmed.

No wonder SHIELD didn't want him in the field, and would never place him there. He may have centuries of experience fighting, but not with humans and not under human laws. Even Asgardian laws had acceptable limits for its warriors. Loki's actions… He would be extremely lucky if he wasn't executed. He'd known he was a monster; now he just had a solid reason for it.

“Loki?”

Loki spun around, hands reaching for knives he didn't now carry. He stared at the short woman in front of him. “Natasha?!”

She smiled and gestured at the path ahead of them. “Coulson sent me after you. He's worried.”

Loki scowled. “Coming to arrest me?”

She smiled and shook her head. “Just to talk, if you want to.”

“I don't,” he said and started down the path again. “An… unpleasant notion… was confirmed, and it's something I'd rather not even think about.”

“Ah.” She half-smiled. “Well, we don't have to. Is there anything else?”

He looked down at her upturned face. “How did you sneak up on me? It's near impossible.”

She met his eyes and then glanced away, her eyes flicking from person to person ahead of them. “I have a very specific skill set. You've heard the rumors. The reality is something worse.” She smiled wistfully. “Sneaking up on someone in a city, even in Central Park, isn't difficult. And you were distracted.”

“It is still _very_ impressive. I wonder if you could do it in other circumstances?”

Natasha grinned. “I'm willing to test that.”

Loki grinned, too. “It'll be fun.”

The problem was, even though he received no censure for leaving the building and Coulson merely stopped by with a cup of coffee an hour after Loki went to his lab just to check on him, he couldn't sleep that night. After four hours of tossing and turning, he threw on his clothes and wandered the halls. He couldn't be in his quarters, and he wasn't going to ask for a sedative from the infirmary (he'd save that for when he had worse nightmares than usual), and he couldn't concentrate or sit still long enough to read. If he went to his lab, he'd break something out of frustration. And he didn't want to destroy yet another punching bag. They simply weren't built for someone with his strength.

“Hey.”

Loki spun around, surprised by Natasha for the second time in less than a day. And this time, he was inside in a quiet part of the building. (It was SHIELD; there were always people on duty and rushing around doing things.) He forced a smile onto his face. “Apparently, you _can_ sneak up on me no matter what.”

Her lips twitched, but her face remained serious. “Loki, what's wrong?” He glanced around, but said nothing. “Not here then. Come back to our apartment.”

From the set of her chin, she wasn't going to take a negative answer. “All right.”

He trailed behind her, memorizing the route. It was just a floor above his, but one hallway over. Their apartment had a view, then. Clint probably would have gone mad without one. Natasha unlocked the door and he was surprised to see Clint on the couch in the middle of the room, with just a table lamp on. He put the television on mute when they came in. “Find him?”

Natasha locked the door behind them and walked so she stood in front of the TV. “It wasn't difficult.”

Clint turned and frowned at Loki. “Tasha said it was unpleasant and that you don't want to talk about it.”

Loki rolled his eyes. Why did humans always have to _pry_? But he'd hated it when his family hadn't. “It was confirmation that something I'd felt to be true was true, but for a different reason than I originally believed. Beyond that…” He shrugged and sat down. Natasha was still in front of the TV, but the moving images were distracting even though he had no idea what was occurring. Better than talking, at any rate.

Natasha moved and sank down between them, resting a hand on his leg. “You don't have to talk about it. God knows there are things we don't.”

“You don't have a therapist who somehow manages to get you to talk and think about things you don't want to,” Loki muttered, still staring at the screen.

“McCormack is very good at what she does,” Clint said. “If our bosses think we need to see someone in Psych, we see her. It isn't often; we know how to fool them. Plus, both of us have coping strategies that aren't destructive, and the things we've done are things we've had to learn to live with--”

“And what if you can't? What then?”

He hadn't meant to sound so broken. But it was three in the morning; he had to be up in three hours if he wanted his usual treadmill, and his thoughts had taken a decided turn for the darker.

“That's when you get help, either professional or from your friends,” Natasha said. “Is she helping?”

Loki looked down at his hands, clenched his fists and then relaxed them. “Yes.” He sighed. “I'm just tired of being hurt in order to heal. Sometimes, it's not a good hurt.”

“Like broken bones?”

Loki lifted his head and stared at Clint. “That is precisely what I'm talking about. What I learned today hurts just as much, and it feels like I've undone all my progress.”

“But you haven't,” Natasha said. “You're talking to us.”

And still calling himself Odinson, even if he wasn't yet up to calling Thor brother. And not planning to avoid McCormack in the morning. “How do you learn to live with it?”

Natasha shook her head and Clint looked at the TV. He finally said, “Everyone does it in their own way. Our coping mechanisms could hurt you. We don't know you well yet, and you're not even human.”

“Your therapy helps me.”

“It's not the same, Loki. McCormack's trained to help. We aren't,” Natasha said, leaning on Clint. “You'll find your own.”

Hopefully, he thought. He was fairly convinced that he never would. He leaned back, settling in the corner, and just watched the television. He didn't know what time he fell asleep, or when one of them put a blanket over him, but he woke up at six (he didn't need an alarm clock after months of the same schedule) and smiled when he realized one had.

He sat up and folded it. He glanced at the door in the dim light, and frowned. He knew Natasha and Clint well enough that they'd have an alarm system in place, and he didn't want to wake them up. He'd teleport, then. Just to the hallway, even though he'd end up in either Fury's or Coulson's office by the end of the day for doing so. He stood up, left the blanket in place, cast a spell that left green glowing letters hovering in the air above it spelling out “thank you,” and vanished.

McCormack looked surprised to see him when he walked into her office precisely on time. “Loki! I thought--”

“I behaved badly yesterday,” he said as he shut the door. “I knew what your answer would be, and it still hurt far more than I thought it would.”

She nodded as he sat down. “Confirmations of negative facts do that. No one can truly prepare for them. Do you want to talk about it?”

Loki shook his head. “But I need to, because it's why I'm here. I don't understand why SHIELD gave me a second chance even when they knew my actions. I don't understand why SHIELD just didn't keep me in the induced coma until the Bifrost is repaired. I don't understand why Fury trusts me to keep my word, or why Clint and Natasha like me.”

“There are undercurrents here that you aren't aware of. You are far from the only person who has done terrible things that SHIELD employs. We needed to keep you under our control, in a supportive environment so you could recover. There are other organizations in this world who would be happy to have you as insane as possible, or simply use you to further their end goals no matter your mental health.” She smiled, a bit rueful. “That's not to say SHIELD isn't making its own use of you--”

“But it's benign management so far. The work I do is useful, though there is a fair amount of 'what else are we supposed to do with him?' involved.” Loki laughed. Treating a mad demigod known for mischief as if he was just another employee took courage. “You've helped set my mind on a healthier path, _are_ helping me work through severe issues that literally caused me to go insane. Working for SHIELD… People here don't have the same conceptions of me as they do in Asgard. I can be taken on my own merits for once. And I'm happier than I've been in a long, long time.

“ _Happier_ , on a planet where many of the customs continue to befuddle me, where I have to watch my strength, where I'm smarter than pretty much everyone, where I barely know my way around the city I live in.” He finally met McCormack's eyes. “I dread to think of where I'd be or what state I'd be in if I hadn't fallen to Earth. It gives me nightmares occasionally-- I've seen some dark things walking Yggdrasil-- and I try not to think about it. So to be here, happy, and then find out that even by human standards, I'm a monster?” He took a deep breath. “I did not have a good day yesterday.”

He took another deep breath. She'd helped him to the point where he no longer flinched when he thought of his origin. She'd helped him see that he did still have a family, albeit with issues that would never be fully resolved until he saw and talked to them again, and maybe not even then. She had helped settle him within himself, and he was starting to find his way again. And now, it was time for another step. “It's time we talk about Jotunnheim.”

He ignored the way she stared at him. “You know why and the circumstances surrounding my plan. You know the cultural background and the relevant history. However, I don't really know what else you want me to say.”

McCormack rested her folded hands on her desk. “Would you do it again?”

Loki flinched. “No-- and yes.” He raised a hand. “Let me explain. I would not attempt to destroy Jotunnheim. I would ensure that they would never be able to leave their Realm again. I _would_ trick and kill Laufey again. He was a threat to Asgard, and while a tentative peace was established, it only lasted because there was no opportunity for Laufey to break the truce. Thor gave him that option.

“While Laufey's murder may not have ended the war, it could have escalated it-- or it could have ended it. More likely, given how powerful Asgard is and with Jotunnheim leaderless, it would be the latter. I wanted to end the war, and I hope I did. But I know now that destroying a planet, an entire species, is not the proper way to do things. Killing Laufey, on the other hand, I do not regret. I don't know how Father would have reacted to just that, or how I would be punished. It doesn't matter. My actions are already shameful enough. As it stands, Asgard thinks I am dead.”

“You want it that way.”

A statement, not a question, but he nodded anyway. “I can make my own way in this world, prove to myself that I can do something, anything, to be proud of, and when I'm ready-- when I know I'll be able to handle the punishment meted out to me with honor-- that's when I'll let Asgard know. I doubt it will happen soon. Five months is nothing; Thor was lucky he proved himself in three days. I still don't fully understand that, but he _had_ changed.

“The lessons I need to learn will take-- have taken-- months. Years, more likely.” He sighed. “Jotunnheim's existence I am happy to ignore. The only, and I do mean only, thing I would like to know is the consequences of my actions on Asgard in the political realm. I had meant to strengthen the throne; I fear I may have weakened it. Without the Bifrost… I don't know.”

“But you can travel without it.”

Loki shuddered. “I have no desire to planetwalk. Locally, I can teleport. It's a related skill, and easier to learn. I used it this morning, in order to not wake Natasha and Clint up.” At her raised eyebrows, he said, “I fell asleep on their couch. My point is, the thought of traveling on those roads makes me ill. I remember falling…” He shook his head, trying to dislodge the memories. “Only at last resort will I do it. _Only_ then.”

“All right. But we're dodging the subject. You said you'd face your punishment with honor. Even if it's your execution?”

Loki dropped his head. “Yes. Honor… It means facing the consequences. Running and hiding like I have; it can be seen as cowardice. It _is_ a flight from justice, and an admission of guilt. I need not be on Asgard to be tried. How I act upon my return will let me regain some of it.”

“Do you need to return now?”

Loki shook his head. “I wish to stay here as long as feasible. I'm beginning to realize that while I may call Asgard home, it is not the place I belong. I fit in better on Earth. But this Realm is under Thor's protection. He will eventually return, and will eventually see me. I cannot hide from him forever. Nor can I hide from Odin's ravens, if they come through the city and spot me.”

“But you wish to.”

“I wish I hadn't done what I did!” he snapped.

McCormack smiled. “Good.” She sobered. “What objections to your actions would Asgard have?”

Loki rubbed his face. “Genocide, though they would be more tolerant because it is the Jotunn. A large part of my crime was in _how_ I did it-- by deceit and without giving them the means to defend themselves. Not that returning the Casket was an option, but if I had gone to Jotunnheim and killed them with my knives or with magic, it would have been a battle. What I did was a slaughter.” He winced. “The sort of thing that caused Asgard to war with Jotunnheim when they invaded Earth a millennium ago. There is no defense against the Bifrost, just as there was no defense for humanity against the Casket.”

Damn it. Damn _himself_. Insanity was a paltry excuse. He deserved to be executed. But he no longer desired to kill himself. One more death wouldn't pay for the lives he'd stolen. “I'm a monster.”

McCormack had nothing to say.

He looked up at her. Voice small, he asked, “What do I do now?”

“You make up for it as best as you can,”she finally said. “How is up to you.”

He certainly wasn't going to return the Casket to Jotunnheim. But this tied into his plan to make Odin proud. If he could prove that he was sorry, that he was insane, that he regretted it, that he wasn't simply a murderer, maybe-- just maybe-- he'd have a chance for mercy. A small one, but a chance nonetheless. He had to try.

Not just for Father, but for himself. Second chances were all too rare, and he wouldn't squander this one. This was neither the time nor the place for his manipulations. Everything he did had to be sincere, else it would backfire. Funny thing was, the past few months, he'd been little else but. Honesty was easier here, where people didn't believe he'd lie just because he could.

Loki nodded and thanked McCormack before leaving her office. It was time to stop messing around and actually show Fury how he could help, even though it meant truly throwing himself into SHIELD. There was no turning back.

He had passed that point five months ago.

* * * * *

Coulson stood next to Fury at the window and looked down at the city street. “You're worried, sir.”

Fury turned to him. “I'm always worried, Coulson. But Loki? Are you sure letting him befriend Hawkeye and Black Widow is a good idea? They've already encouraged him to wander from the building. I'm afraid of what else they will do.”

Coulson smiled. “Who else would even come close to understanding? He relies on me because I was the first person he saw. I'm his stable point. McCormack is his therapist, but not a friend. He needs people who won't put up with his stunts.”

“But they pull their own.”

“And they ground him here. Did you notice he's smiling more and talking to people he doesn't know well? I think, apart from his recovery, he's scared. This is a new world to him, one he may have visited on occasion, but he lives here now, and he has to adapt. By only talking to a few and sticking to a routine, it gave him a sense of control over a situation in which he had none. McCormack said he's used to being rejected, overtly and subtly. He was-- and still is-- afraid to reach out to others because of that.”

Fury narrowed his eye. “Are you saying I should tolerate him wandering the city? What if we need him?”

Coulson shrugged, hiding a smile. “He's not a field agent, Director. I can't imagine what you'll need him for. But I was contemplating giving him a cell phone. Not a smartphone but something simple. It will both let us track him and have him within reach.”

“Do it. And pray he doesn't lose it.”

“I doubt Loki loses his possessions. He's too careful.”

“You had better be right, Coulson.”

Coulson smiled and left the director's office. Next mission: give Loki the cell he'd already bought and programmed before Loki left the building again.

It didn't prove too difficult.

* * * * *

“Loki!” Clint's jaw clenched and Loki sighed when he heard Coulson calling his name from across the lobby. His wanderings were bound to end sometime, but he'd really hoped to escape the cafeteria food today.

“Yes?” he said, keeping his voice chillingly polite.

Coulson drew a small object out of his jacket pocket and handed it to him. Loki stared down at the small flip phone. “Why are you giving me this?”

“You're allowed out now, and we need to be able to find you.”

“Ah. Triangulation.” There were ways around that, but Loki wasn't going to tell. “You want to track me wherever I go.”

Clint frowned. “He's with me; I have a phone.”

Coulson glanced at Clint. “This is for when he goes out alone.”

“To the library or a bookstore, usually,” Loki said, scrolling through the menus and his contact list. “Why now?”

“Fury's concerned.”

Loki flicked his gaze to Coulson, smiling a bit. “When isn't he? This is to keep me out of trouble.”

“Or to find you if you get _in_ it,” Coulson said. “Don't take that as encouragement, by the way. SHIELD would prefer you stay out of trouble so you don't have to answer pesky questions.”

Loki shrugged and slipped the phone into his pant's pocket. “If I don't attract attention, the likelihood is far less that Odin's ravens will spot me. I will confine my mischief to SHIELD.”

Coulson frowned. “I would prefer no mischief.”

Loki threw his head back and laughed. Oh, this was too easy. “I'm afraid I'm incapable of doing that. But I'll make sure no one is injured or publicly humiliated.”

Coulson nodded. “Enjoy your lunch.”

Clint and Loki watched him head to the elevator bank and then Clint eyed Loki. “Somehow, I have a feeling that went exactly how he expected it to.”

Loki's grin widened and he started to head to the doors. “It did, but I don't mind. A little mischief never hurt anyone.”

“You wanted permission,” Clint said as they went outside.

Loki nodded. “You were right when you said I am afraid of returning to Asgard. I do not wish to test my welcome here, and so I limit myself until I figure out my boundaries. Once I do…” He let a wicked grin cross his face. “Not even Fury will be safe.” He paused. “No, Fury will be. Coulson won't.”

Clint smiled. “Smart move. People who piss Fury off tend not to live long. So, what's your first prank going to be?”

Loki shrugged. “I'm not quite sure yet. I want it to be memorable.”

Clint laughed. “I'll help, if you want me to.”

Loki stared at him. “It is a very rare person who would even offer. I thank you, Clint Barton.”

Clint clapped him on the arm. “No wonder you prefer Earth. Come on, the shawarma place is just ahead, and we can plot there.”

Loki had a small smile on his face the rest of the excursion.

* * * * *

Three pranks-- one of which included moving Coulson's office to the roof-- and five months later, Loki collapsed onto the apartment's couch and stared up at his friends. “What is this _Star Wars_ I keep hearing about? I know it's a movie, but I'm tired of people looking at me strangely when I don't laugh or just look confused at whatever they quote.”

Natasha and Clint glanced at each other, but the timer on the oven dinged, so Clint went to take out their lasagna. Natasha sat on the couch next to Loki, on the edge so she could face him. “I'm not sure they're good movies for you to see.”

Clint spoke up from the kitchen. “The prequel trilogy isn't good for _anyone_ to see.”

Loki sighed. “I'm confused.”

Natasha shot an annoyed look over her shoulder. “The original trilogy came out over thirty years ago; the prequel trilogy came out last decade. The latter is widely regarded as inferior to the original.”

“So why shouldn't I watch them?” Loki straightened up from his slouch. It wasn't the first time his friends had warned him away from something. Sometimes, he even listened.

“Because Darth Vader redeems himself and then dies,” Clint said, leaning on the armrest behind Natasha. “Dinner's ready in fifteen minutes.”

“Ah. That again.” Loki scowled. It was a commonplace technique here, and used on Asgard as well. That didn't mean he liked it, nor the parallels and fears he had for his own life. “Why is the prequel trilogy inferior?”

Clint made a face. “Horrible scripts, obviously computer-generated special effects, and the plots sucked.” He pointed the spatula at Loki. “You'd overidentify with the man who became Vader.”

“They weren't all bad,” Natasha said.

Loki rolled his eyes when the conversation descended into good-natured bickering. He put up with it for a couple of minutes before saying, “Then we'll watch the original, and Natasha and I can watch the prequels when you're on a mission.”

Clint nodded and pushed himself off the armrest. “Someone set the table, and we can watch the first one after we eat.”

Loki got up and followed Clint into the kitchen to grab plates.

He frowned at the opening crawl's description of the Death Star, but kept quiet. They didn't know about Jotunnheim. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind and just watched, occasionally stealing pieces of popcorn from the bowl in Clint's lap. It was an utterly predictable movie, though he enjoyed R2's spunk. And then Alderaan exploded.

Loki felt the blood leave his face, and he struggled to control his breathing, hands clenched hard into fists. They were right; this hadn't been a good idea. Natasha paused the movie and both of them looked at him. He shook his head, trying not to look at the TV. He wasn't going to say anything. He couldn't. He didn't want to drive his friends away. Clint and Natasha exchanged a look, and then she softly said, “Loki, we know about Jotunnheim.”

His mouth dropped open and he glanced between them. “How-- how-- _why_ would you befriend me? I'm a monster.”

Clint put a hand on his left shoulder and Natasha the hand that wasn't holding the remote on his right leg. She said just as quietly, “Even monsters need friends.”

“But--”

Clint said, steel in voice, “That's enough, Loki. We've known for a while. Coulson told us. Don't try to push us away; it won't work.” His voice softened. “Do you want to finish the movie?”

Loki stared down at his hands. He couldn't _think_. They knew, they still liked him. The movie he should finish, but he hated it now. Hated what it reminded him of. But he wanted to see what happened. And he didn't want to be alone. They knew, and they were touching him in reassurance, and they were concerned. “We can finish the movie.”

Natasha turned it back on, but neither of them removed their hands. Clint said, “Let us know if the movie's too much.”

It wasn't, and when it was over, Loki leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling. “So, who's Yoda?”

Natasha smiled when Clint snickered. “He's in the next movie,” she said. “It isn't too late if we want to start it.”

Clint stopped laughing when Loki stared at him. “I was imagining your reaction to his introduction.”

Loki rolled his eyes. “Put it in, then.”

Clint did so, and as predicted, Loki _loved_ how Yoda tricked Luke. He couldn't help but wonder why people hadn't taken his own mischief like that? Admittedly, most of it in recent decades had been more malicious than fun, but at the beginning, it hadn't been. He'd just wanted someone to _see_.

He sat bolt upright when Vader revealed his parentage, and watched in stunned silence as Luke _accepted_ the truth and didn't fall. Metaphorically, that is. How could he have done that? He knew Vader was a monster, and… and--

No. He was not Luke, and his reaction truly made no sense to Loki. Rejection was the only possible outcome. And yet, Loki knew enough now to guess the ending of the third. “Vader dies to save Luke's life.”

Clint said, “Yes.”

Loki sank back against the cushions and looked at the clock on the DVD player. Near midnight. They could watch the third movie tomorrow, if nothing came up. And then he would never watch any of them again. Loki sighed. “I should leave.”

Natasha said, “You can sleep here.”

He tilted his head toward her. “My room is a floor down.”

Clint said, “We're worried. You tend not to sleep well when you're reminded of certain events. This way, we'll just be in the next room if you need to talk or just be with someone.”

Natasha smiled. “Better than a telephone call.”

Loki laughed a little. He _had_ called them when he couldn't handle his nightmares, or just couldn't sleep. Sometimes, if it was bad enough, one of them would come to his quarters to just sit with him until dawn. “All right.”

They stood up and the couple went into their bedroom. Loki caught the pillow and blanket Clint tossed to him and dropped them on the couch. The bedroom door closed behind them and Loki did a spell he hadn't used recently-- changing into clothes he didn't have near him. It was incredibly useful for his armor, but handy in situations like this.

Loki lay down on the couch and stared at the small mirror hanging over the window. It let him see the entire room, no blind spots at all from his position-- or the door. Even in SHIELD, his friends were still cautious. Given what he knew of their lives, it was sensible. He'd done similar things on Asgard. He flicked the light off with a bit of magic and waited. The room wasn't truly dark; mini-blinds only blocked out so much. He could hear Natasha and Clint murmuring to each other in the bedroom, the ticking of the clock on the wall above the television, and the other sounds of a strange place at night.

He didn't want to remember, and he knew that if he closed his eyes, all he would see was Jotunnheim and Alderaan and Darth Vader and Odin. But he feel asleep anyway, and his dreams were invaded by them. He woke up, gasping for breath. He sat up, tore the blanket off him, and kicked it to the foot of the couch. He grabbed his hair with his hands and tried to breathe. Just breathe. That's all he had to do.

The bedroom door opened behind him and Natasha padded out. “Loki?” She turned the table lamp on and studied him. “You had a nightmare.”

“Everything mixed together; me destroying Alderaan, Darth Vader fighting me for control of the Bifrost… Odin staring at me in silent horror.” He looked up at her, fingers still tangled in his hair. “I don't want to go back to sleep.”

Natasha sat down next to him and gently pulled his hands away from his hair. Clint said from behind him, “What are you wearing?”

Loki laughed. Trust Clint to note something completely off subject. “A nightshirt. I changed using magic.”

Natasha rolled her eyes, but leaned against him. “Do you want to be alone?”

“No.”

“We can't stay up, Loki,” she said. “So come to bed with us. It's big enough.”

Loki stared at her, flabbergasted. “I'm-- is this-- what is going on?”

Clint's arms wrapped around Loki's neck and right shoulder. “You don't want to be alone; we need sleep. Nothing else.”

Yet there was a note of something else in his voice, something Loki didn't want to examine. Not now, when he couldn't yet physically reciprocate. “Are you sure?”

“We're fine with it. Now come to bed.”

Loki nodded and Clint released him. Natasha stood up and nearly dragged him up after her. He trailed behind them into their bedroom-- a room he'd never been in-- and looked at the king bed. Clint had already flopped down onto the left side. Natasha stood by the right side. “Middle or end?”

Loki flicked off the light to the main room and flung caution to the wind. He wanted-- _needed_ \-- this. “The middle.”

He lay down on his side and Clint rested his back against him. Loki held still, trying to relax and mostly succeeding. He'd always enjoyed cuddling, but this was new territory for him. Cuddling, in the middle of the night, with friends on their bed. He didn't think friends here did that. Not that friends did it on Asgard, either. Natasha lay on her back, one hand on Loki’s wrist, and just looked at him, eyes glinting in the light from the street lamps. “Comfortable?”

Loki smiled. “Yes.”

It took neither human long to return to sleep, and to his surprise, while he never truly went back to sleep, Loki did doze and if he dreamed, he didn't remember them.

He woke up fully when Natasha slipped out of bed, grabbed some clothes from her closet, and slipped out the bedroom door. He heard the shower start a minute later, and relaxed back against Clint. But when Natasha stuck her head in the doorway to let them know the bathroom was free, Loki beat Clint there.

Clint grumbled something uncomplimentary, but Loki grinned. He did take care to complete his morning ablutions as fast as possible and opened the bathroom door to the smell of pancakes. He made a beeline for the table. Natasha finished cooking them and joined him. They left a pile for Clint, who was in the shower, and ate in silence. Only after everyone had eaten and they'd washed the dishes, when Clint sat on the back of the couch to check his email with his laptop, did Natasha touch his wrist. “We need to talk.”

Loki's stomach plummeted and he sat back down at the wooden table, chair creaking beneath him. He stared at the blinds across from him, the bright sunlight peeking through suddenly seeming to mock him.

“You aren't the only monster SHIELD employs, Loki,” Natasha said, still touching his wrist as she too sat down. He blinked, wondering where she was going with this. “The things I've done can never be paid for, though I like to think it's possible.” She glanced over his shoulder at Clint. “We met when he was sent to kill me.”

Loki stared at her and then twisted to stare at Clint. He'd stopped typing and looked up at them. “I made a different choice. A lot of people thought I was mistaken, but I wasn't. Natasha's one of the best agents in SHIELD now.”

“I had a second chance, and I proved people wrong.” Loki shifted his attention back to her. “Monsters can be redeemed.”

Loki whispered, “What did you do?”

He sat there, listening in silence as she told him about her childhood training, Drakoff's daughter, São Paulo, the hospital fire, and dozens of other things, even some under SHIELD's aegis. Rather than grow angry that she was daring to compare herself to him, he saw her stories as what they were: an offering, an acknowledgment that he was not the only one on a path through the darkness.

Once she finished, he slid his hand out from under hers, and grasped it instead. He met her eyes. “Thank you.” She smiled, a bit pale but otherwise composed. “Shall we move to the couch?”

They positioned themselves on either side of Clint's legs. He smiled down at Loki. “First thing I did was email McCormack. Said you had more important things to talk about with us.”

Loki stared at him and then checked the time. 9:30. He smiled. “I did. Why did you save--”

“I recognized a lot of myself in her.”

“He also knew that I'd be a good agent if we could direct my skills. I hadn't much to believe in, and…” Natasha gestured around the room. “I used to be Russian. I'm SHIELD's now.”

Loki nodded. “How did you become involved, Clint?”

“I was a small-time criminal. It's complicated, but SHIELD trusted me in the end. Trusted me enough to not execute her when I brought her in.”

Loki looked between the two. “We're all a bit screwed up, aren't we?”

Clint clapped him on the shoulder and slid down to join them. “That's why we're here. I can't think of any other place that would accept us.”

Loki leaned against Clint. “Neither can I.”

* * * * *

That morning was the turning point. Loki didn't recognize it at first, because even with the revelations, there was some careful stepping among them. But even that faded, as all of them realized they could truly trust each other. More and more often, to the point where Clint had cleared out part of the bedroom closet for a handful of Loki's outfits, Loki spent the night in their apartment. Some of the time, it was on the couch, when he needed company but not contact. Most of the time, though, it was in Clint and Natasha's bed, sometimes in the middle, but generally on one end or the other. It didn't take long for him to realize the frequency of his nightmares dropped.

The problem with SHIELD was that someone was always watching. And that someone was usually Coulson. (If it wasn't him, it was Fury, and that was a more disturbing thought.) “What are you doing with my best agents?”

Loki glared at the man standing in the lab's doorway. “I hope you brought coffee.”  
Coulson smiled. “Of course.” He placed a disposable cup on the counter nearest him and stood next to Loki sitting at the computer. “What's the deal?”

Loki shrugged, trying to decide how secretive to be. This was something the three of them hadn't discussed. “I don't have as many nightmares when I'm sleeping with someone.”

“So it's platonic?” Coulson sighed. “Loki, I don't know how it is on Asgard, but--”

Loki brought the fresh coffee over to him using magic and he fiddled with the lid. “It's platonic in that the three of us aren't having sex.”

“You're attracted to them, aren't you?”

“Romantically! Sexually… .” Loki paused. It was difficult to explain, even for silvertongued him. Coulson's eyebrows rose and Loki put the coffee down. “I need to be in love with someone first.”

“Ah. Are you?”

Loki felt his cheeks warm and knew that he wasn't going to be able to pull off this lie. “I don't know.”

Coulson stared at him. “Loki… I've known both of them for years. For them to let you into their life as much as they have-- Oh, what am I saying? Take them out for dinner. Pay for it. _Talk_ to them. Because if there's one thing this relationship is going to need, it's communication.”

With that absolutely mystifying statement, Coulson left Loki's lab. Loki looked askance at the coffee and moved it further away from him.

He went back to his work and then it hit him not two minutes later. He saved the file, exited the program, and just gazed at his desktop until the screensaver came on. With a mild curse, Loki shut off the computer. He would get no further work done today. He had to plan.

Plan what? Yes, he loved them. But would he admit it? That was what he didn't know. He didn't know if they loved him back. But thinking about their actions toward him: how they touched him when they walked by, how they made sure to never ever take or borrow anything from him without asking permission, how they shared their bed with him, how they talked… There was only one conclusion he could come to: they did, even if they would never outright say it. And they were waiting for him because they didn't want to push him.

Loki stood up, grabbed the now-cool coffee, and drained it. He tossed the cup into his trash can, shed his lab coat, and headed out the door. He may be afraid to return to Asgard, but he was never a coward.

He fished his key ring out of his pocket and unlocked the door to his quarters. He knew Clint and Natasha had no plans for tonight; they'd discussed it at breakfast. This was feasible. He called Natasha on his cell. “I'm taking you out for dinner. Dress nicely.”

He didn't give her a chance to respond; he just hung up. He swiftly showered, pulled on his best outfit, and strolled (he had to force himself not to run) to his friends'-- partners'?-- apartment where he calmly knocked on the door. Clint answered it. “What happened to your key?”

That was another sign he'd failed to read the significance of. Even Coulson didn't have one. Loki swallowed and said, “I'm trying to do this properly. Why are you still dressed in jeans?”

“Tasha gets first dibs on the shower for a formal situation. We won't be ready for another half hour or so.” Loki nodded and brushed by Clint to sink down onto the couch. Clint sat next to him after he closed the door. “What's the big deal?”

Loki took a deep breath. “I figured something out.”

Clint blinked. “Well, that's good.” He shifted a little closer to Loki, leaning forward. “What is it?”

Loki grinned and shook his head. “Not until Natasha is here.”

To his surprise, Clint relaxed against the cushions with a smirk on his face. “I think I know what this is, then.”

The bathroom door opened, and Natasha stepped out, barefoot but in a clingy red dress. Loki swallowed. They knew. It was the only reason she'd wear that instead of one of her other semiformal dresses. She sauntered forward and leaned down to kiss Loki's lips. Startled, he held still for a second and then kissed her back. Clint's inhale made Loki break contact. Yes, they'd known. So he leaned over and kissed Clint while Natasha looked on.

From the way Clint looked, if Loki didn't stop this now, they'd have a conversation Loki didn't want to have before dinner. Natasha kissed Clint on the cheek as she rounded the couch and disappeared into their bedroom. Clint stared at Loki and then gestured at the bathroom. “I, um, I might be a while.”

Loki grinned.

Dinner was uneventful. If he didn't count the way Natasha kept running her foot up Loki's leg, or the way Clint ate the food off his fork, or the fact that they walked out of the restaurant holding hands even though his partners usually didn't like physical contact in public. They managed to mostly be serious rather than smiling at every little thing when the cab dropped them off near SHIELD, and all the way through the building until they reached their apartment. (When had it become theirs? Loki didn't know; Loki didn't care.)

When the door shut and all the locks engaged, Clint grabbed the lapels of Loki's jacket and dragged him into a kiss. Their teeth clicked and Loki pulled back a little. “Why the hell did it take you so long to realize?” Clint muttered.

“Different culture? Not willing to believe the evidence? Not willing to trust that I'd--”

Natasha embraced him from behind and leaned her head on his shoulder, hands dipping a bit low for comfort. Oh, this was going to be interesting and not in a fun way. Loki carefully extracted himself, took off his suit jacket, and hung it on the coat rack. Clint and Natasha looked at him, more than a bit of lust on their faces. Yes, not fun in the slightest. Best to just say it. “I'm not ready to have penetrative sex.” Well, he hadn't meant to be quite _that_ blunt. But he was finding coherent thought to be a bit difficult.

Natasha folded her arms. “Is this an Asgard thing or a Loki thing?”

“A Loki thing,” he said quietly, sitting down on the couch. “I haven't had many partners; though I'm not inexperienced. But I know what I need, and I'm not quite there yet.”

Clint said, “What do you need?”

Loki looked down at his hands. “Sexual and romantic attraction isn't regarded on Asgard as they are here. A situation like ours is outright illegal. Which doesn't bother me; it's not the first time I've been in a multi-partner relationship. I just had to be cautious. But it takes more than a few months of romantic attraction for me to be interested in sex. With you two, it's the fastest it's happened. But penetration… ”

“All right,” Natasha said. “When you _are_ ready, let us know. Other than that, what do you like?”

Loki blinked and looked up at her. He'd expected something other than acceptance and questions. “I like handjobs. I'll give oral sex; I'll touch. Beyond that, it's something I need to take slowly. I'm not ruling penetration out completely, just…”

Natasha nodded and uncrossed her arms. “So everything is cautiously on the table in the future, but we'd better make damn sure that you want it.” Loki nodded. “Do you mind us having penetrative sex in the same bed as you?”

Loki shook his head. “I don't mind watching. Do you?”

Neither one said anything. They each grabbed a hand and pulled him off the couch into an awkward three-way kiss. Loki chuckled when they bumped noses, and that set the two humans off. They laughed their way into the bedroom. Loki swallowed as he watched them undress each other before they turned their attention to him. This was going to be a _very_ fun night.

* * * * *

Almost immediately after his appointment the next morning with McCormack, Fury ordered Clint, Natasha, and Loki to his office only to stare at the three of them in silence. None of them so much as flinched. Coulson, standing next to Fury's desk, had a tiny smile playing about his mouth. Fury finally said, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Natasha said, “With all respect, sir, is this a personal problem or a SHIELD problem?”

Fury glared, hands moving to clasp at the small of his back. “I do not care what the three of you do in your downtime.” He paused and then looked at Loki. “Actually, I _do_ care. Your mischief has been mostly harmless thus far. If this is--”

Loki went from pleasantly amused to furious. “It is _not_. Your intimation shows a distinct lack of trust in me, not to mention in Natasha's and Clint's judgements. You also forget my history, how I had few friends or even people willing to make an effort to understand me. If you think that I would willingly go into a partnership and cast it aside, reveal it all to be a _joke_ \--” Loki snarled the last word, and Clint brushed his hand against Loki's. Loki took a deep breath, settling himself. “Then you truly do not understand why I am here, Fury, nor what I have gained.”

Fury nodded. Loki knew it would be all the apology he'd receive. “Then all of you need to consider the implications of this, legal and personal. I cannot legally put Loki on your next-of-kin paperwork, Agents, and vice versa. I will not do it illegally; there are already enough questions about you, Odinson, and I do not want to toss fat onto the fire. Apart from the political considerations, which I will handle should it become necessary, how will you deal with the personal?”

Clint said, “We'll try to keep it quiet. It's one thing for Black Widow and Hawkeye to be lovers; it's another to add in a Norse god.”

“Demigod,” Loki muttered.

Coulson said, “There are already rumors, and have been for weeks. Your friendship was odd enough that it did attract comment.”

Natasha grinned, teeth showing. “Never to our faces.”

Loki snickered. “Of course not.” He met Fury's eye. “I have no problems keeping it quiet. As I told my partners last night, our relationship is illegal on Asgard. It is unfortunately something I am used to doing.”

“Used to?” Fury said, his eyebrow raising.

“Relationships with a prince never lasted long, for a multitude of reasons. My longest one, with three other people, lasted two and a half of your years. And that was over a century ago.”

Natasha said, “None of us will deny it if outright asked.”

Clint and Loki nodded in agreement. Fury rubbed his forehead, whether in pain or exasperation, Loki couldn't tell. “Don't let it be a liability. That's all I ask.”

“Understood, sir,” Clint said.

“Dismissed.”

Coulson followed them out of Fury's office and he touched Loki's sleeve a few feet down the corridor. Loki stopped walking. “Are you happy?”

Loki's face relaxed into a smile as he watched his lovers continue down the hallway to the elevator bank. “Yes.”

“That's all I needed to know. Good day, Loki-- and good luck.”

Loki's smile stretched into a grin. He'd need it, dealing with with his partners. Coulson went in the opposite direction to return to his own office, and Loki broke into a trot to catch the elevator Natasha and Clint held for him.

* * * * *

Loki smiled at Clint when he thunked his full tray on the cafeteria table and sat down next to him. “Bad morning?”

“New assignment,” he said, glancing at Natasha. “Solo. I'll be gone for at least a month, probably longer.”

Loki buttered his roll and placed it on the edge of his plate. “Doing what?”

“Guarding something Doctor Selvig is working on.”

“Oh.” That was all Loki needed or wanted to know. Or could, to be technical.

Natasha grimaced. “Be careful.”

Clint half-smiled. “I'll be fine. My usual job, nothing special.”

“You'll be bored in three days,” Natasha said, reaching across the table and stealing Clint's chocolate pudding. “Thanks for this.”

Loki grimaced. “I do not know how you can stand eating that.”

She pointed her spoon at Loki. “I don't know how you can stand drinking mead.”

Loki shrugged while Clint shook, trying to hold in laughter. It was far from the first time they'd had this conversation, and it wouldn't be the last. Yet it amused Clint every time. To head off his encouraging it, Loki said, “When are you leaving?”

“Three days. I'll call when I can.”

“Good.” Loki bit into his roll with unnecessary force.

“Hey,” Clint said softly. Loki turned to look at him, and Clint cupped Loki's cheek with his left hand. “I'll be fine. It's domestic. SHIELD's just being careful.”

Loki nodded and Clint slid his hand away. It had been months since they entered their relationship, and both Clint and Natasha were trying, as much as they felt comfortable with, to give Loki the physical contact he needed, even in public. Their attempt to keep their relationship secret had lasted exactly three weeks, not through any fault of their own. SHIELD employed supremely sneaky and intelligent people, and too many of them had put together the pieces. It was an open secret now: everyone knew, no one talked about it.

“He really will be, Loki,” Natasha said. “They'll send me after him if he isn't.”

Loki flashed a brief smile at her and finished his roll.


	3. Chapter 2

“You know, Fury, it's generally a bad idea to keep information from me.” Loki spun his chair to face the man who had just entered his lab. “So why is no one telling me anything about the emergency that's riled SHIELD all day?”

Fury sighed and slid one of the tablets commonly used as a briefing pack onto the nearest lab bench. “It happened late last night, shortly after midnight.”

“Nearly twenty hours, then. I repeat: why did no one inform me?”

“Because the artifact was stolen using magic.”

Loki bit back the biting comment that came to his tongue. Of _course_ they'd first check to make sure he had nothing to do with it. “You expect me to find it?”

“If you can. But the circumstances suggest that you won't be able to.”

Loki sighed. “You could possibly be more cryptic, but I tire of the verbal dance. Either explain or send me to someone who will.”

“The artifact is the Tesseract.”

Loki stared at Fury and then exploded out of his chair, sending it careening into the lab bench placed against the far wall. “The Tesseract. Just be clear-- a little transparent box that glows blue and is an energy source. _That_ Tesseract?”

“Yes.”

“You _fools_. You have no idea how to harness its power, no idea what it is capable of. And you were doing _what_ with it?”

Fury didn't react to the insult. “Clean energy.”

Loki snorted. “I'm no idiot, Director. There's more to it than that. SHIELD has other, more relevant interests.” Fury didn't say anything, which was enough of a confirmation that Loki could return to lambasting him. “You want me to find it. I can't; it was stolen from Asgard centuries ago. Even the best of Odin's magic couldn't locate it.”

“We expected that. It would not have been on Earth otherwise.”

Point. “How was it stolen from SHIELD?”

“A man-- a human named Marvin Wright-- opened a portal and came through. It was unstable, and the complex eventually collapsed. But more to the point, he was a sorcerer. He had a staff that shot bolts of energy--”

“Likely related to the Tesseract, or drawing power from it.” That narrowed things down.

“And mind control.”

Loki gulped. “Explain.”

Fury rubbed his forehead. “Marvin killed almost everyone in the room. I tried stalling so the portal would collapse and bury us before he could escape, but he figured it out.”

“How?”

“One of the personnel he controlled told him, and Doctor Selvig-- also under mind control-- confirmed it.”

“Selvig,” Loki repeated. “ _Where's Clint_?” Then he figured it out. “Clint was the one who told him the portal would collapse.”

“Yes. He was the first one to be put under the--”

“Spell. You want me to find him.”

“If you find him, we find the Tesseract.”

“I cannot guarantee that. I will say this: depending on the method of control used, it may be reversible.”

Fury motioned to the tablet. “Everything we have is in there.” Loki nodded. “Get some sleep if you can. You'll be flying to the helicarrier in the morning, with Coulson and Captain Rogers.”

Loki half-smiled. “You're assembling the Avengers, aren't you?”

Fury stared at him. “I am not going to ask how you know about that. Is there anything else?”

Loki looked straight into Fury's eye. “I will do this under two conditions. One, the Tesseract returns to Asgard after we find it.”

“How will you accomplish that?”

“I'll planetwalk. Two, I want on the Avengers Initiative, solely for this mission. You are fighting a sorcerer from this Realm who has learned a very difficult thing-- how to planetwalk-- and returned using a portal. He wouldn't have needed to use it for himself alone, so he needs the Tesseract for something.”

“He claimed he was going to rule the world.”

“And found allies to help. That's how he was able to control the Tesseract. Your Avengers may not be able to defeat him without me.”

“It's also because of Barton.”

Loki let a nasty smile slide across his face. “No one touches my family and lives to tell of it. Marvin is _mine_.”

Fury studied him. “You would not sit quietly in a lab waiting for someone else to do a job that honor says is yours, no matter if I forbid it. I know when to back down, Odinson. You're on the team.”

Loki let the smile drop from his face. He grabbed the briefing pack and opened it, sliding the screen into its slot. “Then I have work to do.”

* * * * *

Natasha watched Banner. If she knew exactly what would set the Hulk off, she'd be more comfortable. As it was, the plane carrying Captain Rogers was landing, and it would be best if the two men met each other out here. It would save time.

She lost track of Banner momentarily as she walked toward the quinjet, but he was just wandering around the jets, looking uneasy. Given his past experiences with the military, she didn't blame him. Coulson stopped her. “Loki didn't say a word apart from introducing himself to Captain Rogers. Do something.”

Natasha frowned. “It may require disappearing for a little while.”

“Do what you need to, Natasha. Things are volatile enough without him complicating them.”

She nodded and Coulson hurried off to the bridge after she told him they were starting the face trace. She walked over to the quinjet where Captain America and Loki were disembarking.

Every line of Loki's body spoke of fear, concern, and anger. He wasn't wearing his normal button-down shirt and slacks, either. Two months ago, he'd found clothing that resembled what he'd worn on Asgard, and he only wore it occasionally. Right now, combined with the green and black leather duster she'd bought him three weeks ago, he looked dangerous-- and alien. Coulson was right. A pissed-off Loki who didn't try to hide his origins was a loose cannon.

She hurried over to him. “Hey.”

Loki actually relaxed a little when he spotted her. “Hey, Tasha.”

She heard Banner choke as he came up behind them, but ignored him. “How are you?”

Loki's grin scared her. “He doesn't stand a chance.”

He hadn't answered her question. Time to stop this, or at least calm him down as much as possible. “You do realize that we have to follow orders and that you can't go haring off on your own?”

Loki rolled his eyes. “I know, but I feel useless. I can't find the Tesseract; I can't find Clint. I don't know what the sorcerer is doing.”

“We're looking for them, Loki. We'll find them.”

Captain Rogers interrupted. “I thought Doctor Banner was here to find the Tesseract.”

Loki turned, straightening up. “He is, using science. My magic ran up against one of its inherent limitations. If someone knows you'll be looking for something, there are ways to circumvent you discovering it. Gamma radiation, on the other hand…”

Natasha kept her gaze on Rogers. If there was anyone who would have a problem with magic, it would be him. Rogers said flatly, “Magic. I suppose you expect me to believe that your parents actually named you Loki instead of you picking it for yourself.” He looked at Natasha. “Are you sure this guy is telling the truth?”

“Loki is the only sorcerer who works for SHIELD, Captain. He knows what he's talking about.”

Rogers nodded. “All right, then.”

Banner shook his head. “You're not from here, are you?”

Loki actually grinned, and Natasha relaxed a little more. If he could do something other than glare at the world, she wouldn't have to resort to methods that were best left for downtime. “I was raised on Asgard.”

Natasha saw the information click into place by the expressions crossing Rogers' face. “You're the Norse god.”

Loki tilted his head to the side. He'd know best how to play this, so she let him handle it. “Alien. Not divine or related to any divinity, just practically immortal.”

“So how old are you?” Banner said.

“By your years, just under a thousand and fifty. Equivalent age is early twenties.”

Movement of the deck crew caught her attention. She stepped forward, interrupting them. “Gentlemen, you may want to step inside. It's going to get a little hard to breathe.”

Loki grinned. “I want to watch this. I've never seen it in person.” He trailed after Banner and Rogers to the edge of the flight deck. Natasha sighed. All three of them-- curious, intelligent, and likely to butt heads given more than a few minutes of conversation. Well, maybe not Banner. He tried hard to be unobtrusive, and for good reason.

But on their way inside, to the briefing table in the bridge, Loki stayed next to her, their arms brushing constantly. She knew this wouldn't change much, not unless circumstances separated them. He didn't want to lose her, too.

* * * * *

Loki leaned against the table and watched Fury and Banner talk, and then Natasha led Banner off to his lab. He pushed himself away from the table, hating that he didn't want her to leave his sight-- she was one of the most capable fighters he'd ever met, and she could take care of herself-- but Fury said, “I need you to explain what you've found, Loki.”

So he turned around and sat down. “There isn't much for me to say. A finding spell is not useful against another sorcerer.” Loki paused. “Well, if the sorcerer is arrogant and ignorant, yes. But this one? He's hidden the Tesseract and Clint. I can't locate them.”

“Why not?” Fury had the exasperated look on his face that he got whenever Loki was being too obscure talking about magic. He still occasionally forgot that no one here even knew the basics.

Loki sighed and started absently drawing circles on the tabletop with a finger. “A finding spell works because the sorcerer knows what to look for. I know both the Tesseract and Clint's appearances. Finding Clint should be simple, a work of minutes. But even two hours of looking last night produced nothing.” Fury looked more impatient by the second. Not good. “If another sorcerer has the object being looked for, he or she can obscure it. It's like peering through a fog bank. You know the object is in there somewhere, but you can't see it. In this case, the fog bank is the size of the planet.”

“What about the mind control?”

Loki flicked a finger and an image of Clint being controlled popped up in the table. “As far as I can tell, it should be reversible. It's one of the simplest forms, one that requires both physical contact through the staff and willed by the sorcerer. If the will is broken, the control also breaks.”

“Meaning?”

“There are two ways it can be done. Magic, which is difficult and exhausting for the one trying to break the spell because of how it intwines with the victims’ minds, or brute force.” Fury's eyebrow raised. “Knock them unconscious and give them a concussion. Anyone with proper training can do it.”

“The problem will be getting close enough,” Fury said. He glared at the image and canceled it. “We had a quinjet stolen a few hours ago. Barton didn't do it alone; he had help. He knows far too much about SHIELD and its enemies.”

Loki bowed his head. “I was afraid of that. Being controlled doesn't mean someone forgets everything. It just removes free will. He'd answer any and all questions put to him.”

“That worries me.”

Loki looked up and half-smiled. He liked Fury's sense of humor. “Understatement, sir. I'd say it does more than that.”

Captain Rogers didn't look amused, but Agent Sitwell interrupted, “We got a hit. Sixty-seven percent match. Wait-- cross match, seventy-nine percent.”

Loki spun around in the chair. “Where?”

“Stuttgart, Germany. 28 Königstrasse. He's not exactly hiding.”

Loki stood and then Fury said, “Captain, you're up. Loki, sit back down or go help Banner.”

Loki turned to face Fury. “I beg your pardon?”

Coulson came back from wherever he'd disappeared to and put a slim silver briefcase on the table. “He's right. We need him alive.”

“I can do alive.” Loki could not believe he was pleading for this. “You're fighting a sorcerer--”

Natasha came back through the door. “I know how. And you aren't a field agent.”

Captain Rogers stared at him. Loki closed his eyes. “I'm not willing to go into the details in public, Captain. There are good reasons for it.” He opened his eyes and focused on the briefcase. “The restraints?”

Coulson nodded. “We're prepared.”

Loki shook his head. “Not enough.”

Fury said, “You're backup. Right now, we're operating under the assumption that Marvin doesn't know about you, though what you said about concealment spells makes me wonder. I'd like to keep you hidden if at all possible.”

Loki smirked. “A secret weapon?”

Fury nodded. “If they need you, someone will call in and you can teleport there.”

That was more palatable. He appreciated sneak attacks (as long as they weren’t on him). “Acceptable,” Loki said. “Though for the record, I'd rather _not_ be backup. I know how to fight.” To Natasha, he said, “Be careful.” Then he stalked out of the bridge, leaving Rogers and Natasha talking about strategy. Loki knew Natasha could probably take down the sorcerer; she knew how to take _him_ down. A few minutes later, he knocked on the door to Banner's lab, and the man waved at him to enter.

“Romanoff said you'd probably try to help me.”

Loki nodded and peered at some of the equipment. Most of it was foreign to him. “I confess I'm not sure how.”

“Right now, it's just a waiting game. I've already set a rough algorithm running, but it needs refinement. How good are you with code and science?”

Loki snorted. “Depends. I'm the only person in SHIELD who uses Macs. They work better with my magic, and how I think.”

Banner took off his glasses and peered at him. “What did you do, poke holes in the operating system?”

Loki grinned. “Many of them. With magic, not code. Think of it like Parallels, that program that allows some Macs to run both the native OS and Windows. It drives the IT people nuts, because my computer's not supposed to do half the things I make it do. A good number of 'programs' I use can't be used anywhere else because they run on the magical OS.”

“So magic's…”

Loki leaned against the counter and picked up a tool to fiddle with. “Your science and math are a part of magic, but they can't use magic. It's… difficult to explain concisely.”

“And we don't have the time. Have there been any--”

Loki scowled. “They found the sorcerer. Captain Rogers and Natasha went to arrest him.”

Banner looked up and put down his instrument. “Not you.”

Loki bit off the words. “I'm not trusted in the field. So I'm held in reserve unless they need me.”

Banner raised his eyebrows. “I'm surprised. You're a thousand-year-old sorcerer from a warrior society. I thought you'd be on the first line of defense.”

“SHIELD has its reasons, and I generally agree with them. It only matters now because of Clint. I can't stand by and do nothing. Fury even promised me I wouldn't.” Loki gestured around the lab. “But this is exactly that.”

“Did the sorcerer have the Tesseract?”

Loki froze. “No.” He rubbed his temples. “It's a trap, a diversion. He's planning something. But why the gala?”

Banner said, “We'll find out when they return. SHIELD's interrogators--”

Loki smiled. “I know who they'll send to talk to him. She's very good.”

“Romanoff?”

Loki nodded. “Romanoff.”

* * * * *

Natasha brought the scepter down to the lab, but asked both men to return to the bridge for a meeting. Banner sighed but Loki left immediately. “What happened?”

She shot him a wry look. “We found him pontificating-- in English. A good portion of the crowd had very confused and worried expressions.”

Loki snickered. “Apparently, he's one of those people who thinks everyone speaks English.”

“He was rather surprised when Captain America dropped in. Iron Man showed up not two minutes later, just as we were about to call you in. Coulson was right; Stark can't stay out of anything involving trouble.”

“Am I still under orders to go nowhere near the man?”

Natasha grinned and linked an arm around his. “At this point, no. Just try not to drive Fury mad. We need him.”

Loki smiled. “I'll try. Did the sorcerer say anything on the plane?”

“Something about the Chitauri being more than a match for whatever Earth can throw at them.” Loki stopped walked, drawing his arm away from Natasha's. She turned to him. “What is it?”

Loki shook his head, fighting back a shudder. “I'd prefer to go over it just once.”

They reached the bridge two minutes later. Natasha sat down, and Loki stood next to her. Banner came in not a minute later and leaned against the chair opposite them. Captain Rogers-- what in Yggdrasil's name was he _wearing_?-- sat diagonally, at the end of the table. “What are the details?” Loki asked. “How did you capture Marvin?”

Rogers looked at him. “It was easy. _Too_ easy. He used the scepter a few times to send energy blasts, but he didn't really use magic at all.”

Loki frowned. No magic?

“Then Stark showed up,” Natasha said. “And he surrendered.”  
“Surrendered.” Loki couldn't believe it. “Instead of planetwalking or teleporting, he _surrendered_.”

“Yup,” Stark said, walking in. Loki turned to look at him. “I don't get the big deal. He knew he was outmatched-- and he really hated those cuffs. I don't think he expected those.”

“That's good news,” Fury said, coming in to stand at the head of the table, next to Coulson. “It means Barton didn't tell him everything.”

Clint… The pieces clicked together. “Marvin's laying a trap. He's trying to play a game.” Loki looked at everyone gathered around the table, all of whom were staring at him. He let a feral smile loose. “Luckily for us, he's playing against me.”

“You need to explain that,” Rogers said. “I for one am not following.”

Stark pointed at Loki. “He's the demigod of mischief. Nice to meet you, by the way. But you think he came to the helicarrier for a reason.”

Loki nodded. “Marvin's leading an army to Earth, and no matter his exaggerations, he's unsure that they'll be undefeated. He needs to ensure their success. So he came here to bring down SHIELD.”

“Why SHIELD?” Banner said. “Wouldn't the military be a better target?”

Fury shook his head. “We have superheros. Barton knew I'd gather them for something this big. The Avengers pose a significant threat. Loki, what do you know about his army?”

Loki gulped. “The Chitauri are a species who thrives on war. Not like Asgard. Asgard doesn't seek out wars. The Chitauri… I encountered a small outpost of theirs once in my wanderings and actively avoided them after that. They think nothing of mind control or torture or anything else. Someone-- their leader-- motivates them, drives them, to fight.”

“Will Asgard help?” Rogers said.

Loki shook his head. “I tried to warn people, but no one believed that there could be other species in other places than the Nine Realms. For all that Asgard is the pinnacle of the Realms, it is also rather closed off and reluctant to change. And Earth is unable to contact them.”

“You could,” Rogers said.

Loki shook his head. “They think I'm dead. I'd prefer to keep it that way.” Rogers suddenly looked furious. There was no surprise why. “Don't ask me to explain, and _don't_ ask me to change my mind. It doesn't matter anyway; they wouldn't be able to travel here. The bridge is broken.”

“So why does he need the Tesseract? The Chitauri?” Coulson said before anyone could ask why. The tension broke, just a little, and Loki breathed a sigh of relief.

Stark said, “It's why he was at the gala, to get a retinal print so his people could steal iridium. It makes portals stable.”

Banner stared at him. So did the rest of the group, as he went completely off-topic and played around with the main screens. Loki saw, but said nothing about, a tiny device Stark planted. He knew enough about the man that he had a good reason for his actions, and Loki was willing to wait for either more information or the results. Then Stark came back on topic. “He just needs a power source, something to kick-start the cube.” At everyone's confused expression. “Am I the only one who did the reading?”

“The only one to understand it,” Rogers muttered. “Does he need any particular power source?”

Banner broke in. “He's got to heat the cube to a hundred and twenty million Kelvin just to break through the Coulomb Barrier.” 

“Unless Selvig figured out how to stabilize the quantum tunneling effect.”

“If he could do that, he could achieve heavy ion fusion at any reactor on the planet.”

“Finally, someone who speaks English.”

Loki looked askance at Stark just as Rogers said, “Is that what just happened?”

For once, Loki was in complete agreement with him, and only the fact that Banner was the sole person to understand Stark kept the humiliation and urge to lash out in check. He made a mental note to read up thermonuclear physics at a later point. It would be interesting to see if or how it related to his magic, and so he wouldn't be caught ignorant again. “If you’re done showing off?” Fury said, hands flat on the table. “You two need to find the Tesseract before the portal is opened.”

“I'd start with the stick,” Rogers said. Loki looked at him in surprise. That was actually a good idea. “It may be magical, but it works an awful lot like a HYDRA weapon.”

Loki stepped back. “I can help with that.”

“We aren't done with you. Finish setting up the game for us, please,” Fury said.

Loki said, “He needs to bring down SHIELD. Destroy the helicarrier, he destroys the upper echelon of SHIELD's command staff as well as the so-called Avengers.”

Natasha said, “With a quinjet and his explosive arrows, Clint could knock us out of the air.”

“Not with Marvin on board, he won't,” Rogers said. “How many engines can we lose?”

“One,” Fury said. “We can work with this. Stark and Banner, get working on the staff. Loki, do you really think you'll be able to help them?”

He tilted his head. “Maybe. It's a link, and therefore it's just as likely to tell me it's in the helicarrier than show me the Tesseract.”

Banner said, “Why don't you give us a little time to see if we can narrow things down first?”

“A couple of hours should be enough time to see if we're getting anywhere with science,” Stark said. “We'll know more then.” He walked out of the room shaking his head and muttering “magic” under his breath.

Loki nodded at Banner. “I'll see you then, whether or not you need me.”

Fury said, “Romanoff, give Marvin a couple of hours to cool his heels. He's in the magic-blocking cell, isn't he?”

Coulson nodded. “Both of you should rest. Two hours of sleep is better than none.”

Loki followed Natasha from the room. That's what they would all be lucky to have. Fury would catnap in his office, and Coulson would probably subsist on coffee. Who knew what the rest of them would do. “Where are we going?”

Natasha took his hand. “Clint and I have quarters here, though we've been stationed in New York for--”

“To keep an eye on me?” Loki snarled, pulling his hand away.

Natasha stopped walking and turned to look at him. “No. To help keep you stable, maybe. SHIELD doesn't separate romantic partners without reason. Given that Coulson was the only other person to break through your self-imposed barriers, they weren't going to risk setting you off again.”

Loki shook his head and looked at the people quite clearly afraid to squeeze between them. “Shall we continue this in private?”

Natasha nodded, and they set off again. Just a few minutes later, she unlocked a nondescript door in a corridor full of them and pushed it open. Loki followed her in and shut the door behind them. One wide bed, two dressers bolted to the wall, and one desk with an embedded screen. “Cozy.”

“You can see why Clint wouldn't want to stay here. I don't mind it so much.” Natasha sat down on the bed.

“No windows.” No room to pace, either. He sat down at the desk. “What were you saying?”

Natasha sighed. “SHIELD did not send Clint and me to New York to keep an eye on you. We're based there and have been for years, partly because there's two international airports in the city, and millions of people to learn from and practise on. Those first few months were the longest we've been continuously there, however, and you noticed that SHIELD started sending us on missions shortly after we became solid friends. Before then…” She shrugged.

“Before then, you were helping me adjust and giving me a reason to trust humans above and beyond a nebulous second chance.” Loki rubbed his forehead. “And you were evaluating me as well.”

“I won't deny that. SHIELD doesn't waste resources.”

“I'm stuck in a lab!”

Natasha shot him an exasperated look. “Until now, you made no move for fieldwork.”

Loki moved to sit next to Natasha. “It's Clint.” He was as good a reason as any. “I think it's reversible, but there's a small chance it isn't.”

Natasha leaned against him. “You won't know until we see him.” She paused and said, “Loki, if it comes down to it, let me be the one to kill him. He'd want that.”

Loki kissed the top of her head. “I won't dispute that. But I am _not_ going to think like that. I've lost too much to give in to despair now, when we know he's coming and we know that he's going to do his best to rescue Marvin. We'll be able to stop him.”

“Sometimes, Loki, you have to accept that some things just might not be possible.”

Loki closed his eyes. “Tasha, I can't think like that. You know why.” He sighed and opened them. “I'm honestly more worried about how Clint will react afterwards. He's an unwilling traitor.”

“Mind control is mind control, and he's not legally responsible for his actions. But he's going to need a lot of help dealing with the aftermath. It's one thing to shoot a target that you know needs to be eliminated. It's another to fire on friends.”

“Hopefully, Fury won't choose to shoot down the aircraft.”

Natasha sat upright. “He won't. The people onboard are information sources, and Clint is too valuable to risk losing. We need to know what he told Marvin, and if that information was disseminated to others. We can't trust that Marvin will tell us everything.”

“No, he won't. Tasha, how much trouble will Clint be in?”

She shrugged. “Officially, not much. Mind control… it's hard to dispute the evidence. Unofficially, it may take a while for people to trust him again.” She nudged him with her shoulder. “Not that we're unused to it. That's what you and I are here for.”

“We're family. And who better to help him?”

She nodded and stood up. “I fully intend to take a nap before everything goes down.” She opened a drawer and pulled out a pair of pajama pants. “You should, too. Your duffle bag should be in the bottom drawer of the other dresser. If it isn't, it's disappeared and you'll never see it again.”

He snickered. “Finding spell.” He stood up and slid out of his duster. Leather was not comfortable to sleep in.

* * * * *

Natasha looked at the security screen, studying Marvin in the two-part cell Loki had designed. The larger part was for the actual occupant. The small part, which was just large enough for a chair, was designed for an interrogator-- or a therapist. Loki had been under no illusions. This cell was for him. It just happened to work rather well for other people.

She nodded to the guard, who opened the primary door. Natasha stepped inside, stepped around the chair, and sat down while the door closed with a muffled thud. The man on the other side of the clear divider looked at her in disgust. “You again. As if seeing you on the plane wasn't enough. What do you want?”

“To know what happens to Agent Barton when this is over.”

The man leered, and Natasha kept her face calm. “You in love with him? I can't believe he'd fall for such a bitch.”

“I owe him a debt. Love is for children.” Trust, on the other hand, meant everything.

“Oh?”

“He was sent to kill me. He brought me to SHIELD instead.”

“But that's not all. He told me about you, Black Widow. About everything you've done. You can never pay for it all. I know it, he knows it, and you know it. You create more and more red every time you kill someone for SHIELD. You are a monster working for monsters. I will put you down like you deserve. Then I will release him so that he can see he failed to save you, and then I will kill him.”

Natasha stood up and moved behind the chair, covering her face with her hands and making a sound like she was holding back a sob. Marvin said, “You expected mercy? You're weak, only pretending you are nothing like the rest of us ordinary people. But you are, Romanoff, you are. Soon, my people will come and they will unleash the monster you brought on board. This aircraft carrier will fall, and it will be on _your_ head.”

Natasha dropped her hands and turned around with a small smile. “So, Banner? That's your play?”

Marvin stared at her, jaw working with nothing coming out. Her smile shifted into a smirk and she walked out of the cell. Manipulating him was easy. “Return to the guard station. It's time.” He nodded and hurried off. Natasha pressed her earpiece. “Confirmed: divide and conquer, with a little help from the Hulk. He means to bring down the helicarrier.”

Now to move Banner to a safer location.

She walked into the laboratory to find chaos, with Loki right in the middle of it. Of course. First things first, though. “Doctor Banner, he means to use the Hulk to bring down the helicarrier.”

That cut through half the noise, most of the people in the room turning to her, and she could finally see what the fuss was about. Phase 2. Ah. That would explain Rogers' and Stark's reactions. And then Banner said, “I'd like to know why SHIELD is using the Tesseract to build weapons of mass destruction.”

Fury pointed at Loki. “Because of him.”

* * * * *

Loki stared at Fury, feeling the blood drain from his face. He'd known there were consequences to his actions, but this? “What?”

Fury said, “You had a grudge match with your brother that leveled a small town. We learned that not only are we not alone, but we are hopelessly, hilariously, outgunned. And that's ignoring your magic.”

Loki shook his head. “You _cannot_ blame all of that on me. I did not dictate your reactions, and I did not--” He picked at one of his thumbnails and dropped his hand when Natasha shot him an admonishing look. “Your work with the Tesseract is what caught the Chitauri's attention. It's a signal to the other Realms that Earth is ready for a higher form of war.”

“You forced our hand. We had to come up with something.”

Loki laughed, harsh and bitter. “You brought me into your organization knowing full well what I'm capable of. And yet I even made restraints that could hold me. I'm no threat to Earth, Director.”

“Loki,” Natasha said, coming over to him and putting a hand on his right arm. “That's enough.” She looked around the room, at the arguments that were breaking out. “Everyone, stop!” They all looked at her. “We have a battle to win. This is playing into Marvin's plan.” She turned to Banner. “I'm sorry, Doctor. But Marvin said that he means to have the Hulk destroy the helicarrier.”

Loki leaned against Natasha, watching everyone else and trying to calm down. He should have-- and in some ways, had-- expected this ever since Fury's “told” him SHIELD's plans weren't clean energy. But to have his past used against him in front of strangers? That hurt worse than the knowledge.

It also didn't help that everyone was running on a lack of sleep, and tempers were short from that alone, not to mention the stress. Loki rubbed his face with his left hand. Time for more coffee.

Banner said, “You want me in my cell?” He looked around the room, grimacing at the way neither Fury nor Natasha met his eyes. “We know they're coming. Were you able to figure out what their plan is?”

Fury sighed. “Barton will take out one of the engines with an explosive arrow. We think we'll be able to direct which one, and their landing site. We have guards surrounding the bridge, even in the vents, in case they have plans to take out more. We're going to grab them at several chokepoints; we know their target is to get Marvin out.”

Banner said, “So my program--”

“Is the best shot we have, because we're likely not going to be able to follow them.”

Rogers said, “If Barton takes out an engine… They're huge, and there have to be people--”

Fury's expression darkened. “They're volunteers.”

That shut the room up and Banner sighed. “I'll go to the cell. I won't risk people's lives.”

“You'd better hurry,” Natasha said. “It's nearly dawn, and that's when they'll likely attack. Your program doesn't need supervision, does it?”

Banner shook his head. “The model's locked and we're sweeping for the signature now. When we get a hit, we'll have a location within half a mile.”

“And you'll get your cube back, no muss, no fuss,” Stark said.

Fury glanced at Loki. “It's returning to Asgard.”

Everyone looked at Loki. He shrugged and didn't say anything. It was obvious. Then Rogers said, “You aren't coming back here afterward.”

Loki laughed. “I'm not staying on Asgard. For this, I'm willing to play a glorified courier. Sorry, Captain. You'll just have to learn to deal with me.”

Fury left the lab, not without rolling his eye, and Rogers looked at them. “Time to go to the bridge.”

Loki frowned and followed Natasha from the lab.

Twenty minutes later, he teleported from the bridge to the detention level. Coulson, no matter that he had guards for backup, had managed to get himself into trouble. Loki had no idea what kind, but they'd received word Marvin had escaped just prior to Coulson's arrival. Loki skidded around the corner-- unwilling to land directly in a hostile situation and become a target while he oriented himself-- leapt over two corpses, and slowed to a walk as he took in the mess.

Coulson had in his lap a large gun of some kind Loki had never seen, which was pointed in the same direction as a massive burnt hole in the cell bank. Loki knelt down, carefully removed Coulson's hands from it, and set it to the side, muzzle pointing down the corridor. Coulson smiled at him and Loki studied him.

A stab wound, from the staff someone-- possibly the person who had slipped free from SHIELD's net and released Marvin-- had removed from the supposedly secure lab, as it was on the way to the detention level. “Coulson, you are an _idiot_. Where did you get that gun?” Loki asked as he yanked open Coulson's shirt.

“It's based off the Destroyer. I couldn't just let him escape. I didn't hit him, though. He disappeared into thin air right as I pulled the trigger.”

“You didn't expect to be stabbed.” Loki placed his hands on both sides of the wound, ignoring the blood that began to coat them. “This will hurt.”

“Loki--”

“If you want to live, _shut up_. I am not going to let you die, Phil. We don't need to avenge your death.”

Loki concentrated, sending a flow of power to the wound. He wasn't a healer, but he knew enough battlefield medicine to keep his friend alive until he reached the doctors. He heard footsteps and shook his head violently. He didn't dare speak until he was finished.

It seemed to simultaneously take no time and hours, but Loki finally healed Coulson enough to pull his hands away and get to his feet. He wobbled and a medic caught his arm, steadying him. “Are you okay, sir?”

Loki looked at his bloody hands, and then at the medics strapping Coulson to a stretcher. “I'm fine. It's his blood, not mine.”

“What were you doing?”

“Keeping him alive.”

Loki shook off her hand and walked out of the brig. He went to the nearest head and washed his hands until the last traces of blood were gone. His cuffs were soaking wet, but he didn't care. Coulson's injury was his fault, for insisting the game be played out. People had died thanks to him. Again. But this was war, and what it meant to be in a position of authority. There had been no other option. Loki went back to the bridge, where Fury told him Clint was in one of the isolation rooms in the infirmary with Natasha watching over him until he woke up. Loki spun on his heel and ignored Captain Rogers calling after him.

He peered through the shatterproof glass and knocked on the door. Natasha looked over and smiled. He opened the door, closed it, and then folded her into a hug. “What happened?”

Tasha looked up at him. “We fought; I gave him a concussion and knocked him out. He should wake up soon.”

A noise from the bed where Clint lay restrained made both of them look over. He struggled with the restraints and then relaxed when he saw them. Loki released Natasha and she went over to the bed. Natasha said, “Clint, you're going to be all right.”

“You know that? Is that what you know? I've got to flush him out.”

“We don't have that long.”

Clint gave her a despairing look. “Have you ever had someone take your brain and play? Pull you out and send someone else in? Do you know what it's like to be unmade?”

Natasha said, “You know that I do.”

“Why am I back?”

“Cognitive recalibration. I hit you really hard in the head.”

Clint actually smiled at that, and Loki stepped forward, keeping his hands visible. “If you want, I can check to make sure.”

Clint thought about it for two seconds. “Do it.” He huffed. “If it wasn't for you, I'd hate magic right now.”

“We all would,” Loki said. “Mind control isn't pleasant.” He placed a hand on Clint's forehead and closed his eyes, better to sense the magic. There were no connections. And he could and did heal the concussion. He opened his eyes. “You're clean.”

Natasha hurriedly undid the restraints and Clint sat up, swinging his legs off the bed. “How many agents?”

“Don't do that to yourself. It wasn't you.”

“But--”

“Don't,” Loki said, sitting next to Natasha. “It's not you. Blame Marvin.”

“He got away?”

Natasha said, “I don't suppose you know where?”

“I didn't need to know. I didn't ask. But he'll make his play soon, though. Today.”

She said, “We're going to stop him.”

“Yeah. Who's we?”

Natasha smiled. “Everyone-- Iron Man, Captain America, me, you, Loki.”

Clint leaned around Natasha, eyes wide. “You?”

Loki said evenly, “He messed with my family. He won't live another night.”

Clint chuckled hollowly. “First shot's mine, okay?”

Loki inclined his head. It was only fair. Honestly, Loki didn't care how Marvin died, just that he did.

Clint continued, “When this is over, I want a vacation. A long one.”

Natasha frowned. “If you count psych leave as a vacation, then I hope you enjoy it.”

Clint winced. “I forgot about that.”

Loki raised his eyebrows. “SHIELD has procedures for mind control?”

Natasha nodded. “It's usually not this comprehensive, but it _has_ happened. Three weeks minimum leave, complete with a full psychiatric evaluation. I predict he'll last three days before trying to break into the range.”

Loki laughed. “Four days. What does the winner receive?”

“One week, and choice of sex position,” Clint said.

Natasha and Loki glanced at each other before nodding in agreement. Before they could say anything else, another agent knocked on the door and entered the room. “I'm sorry to interrupt, but Captain Rogers requested that all three of you report to the bridge.”

She hurried out, leaving the door open behind her. Natasha raised her eyebrows. “Guess you aren't going on psych leave just yet, Hawkeye.”

They walked to the bridge and joined the rest of the… team… around the table. Fury stood at his monitors before it, paying half attention to them and half to the Avengers. Rogers said, “We have only one chance at this. If the sorcerer opens the portal--”

“Does anyone even know where it's going to open?” Stark said. “I haven't had the time to check the program, what with fixing the engine and all.”

Banner pulled his glasses off and leaned forward. “It finished running in the midst of the skirmish.” He took a deep breath and Loki frowned. Whatever the news was, Stark-- Oh. Power source. Arc reactor. Banner continued, “It's at Stark Tower.”

“That bastard,” Stark said. “I'm in.” He pointed at Clint, Natasha, and Loki. “I know you three are. Bruce?”

He fiddled with his glasses, but Loki already knew what he'd say. Banner may be frightened of the monster inside of him, and for good reason, but in a situation like this? “I'll go.”

Rogers stood, hands flat on the table. “Then suit up. Stark, how long until your suit is repaired?”

“Give me an hour.”

“Done. We'll meet in the hanger.” He paused. “Does anyone know how to fly one of those jets?”

Clint leaned forward. “I can.”

Rogers glanced at Natasha, who nodded. He said, “Good.”

The group split up when they left the bridge. Natasha told Loki where his armor was (the armory nearest their room), and said they'd meet at the infirmary. Loki nodded and hurried off.

His armor hung in a clear case against the far wall. Loki winced when he looked at it. Still scratched and dented from his fight with Thor and the fall to Earth. Well, it was probably the landing that screwed it up the most. A little magic and it would be fine. And he used magic to put it on. So much easier than dealing with the buckles and straps by hand. Still, there was no helmet and he didn't have any of his knives or even a staff to fight with. Magic it was, unless he could convince Natasha to lend him some of her knives.

He didn't need to even ask. She handed him three when he showed up in the infirmary.

They didn't stay long, because they were informed that Coulson would recover fine, but was not ready to receive visitors. They were the second group to arrive at the hanger. Rogers and Banner had apparently gone there directly from the bridge. They smiled at them as Loki buckled himself in while Clint and Natasha went into the cockpit. “Good to see you,” Rogers said. “We're waiting on Stark, then, but it's only been forty minutes.”

Loki nodded and leaned his head on a parachute. “Is there anything we need to further discuss?”

“No,” Rogers said. “You should know the area around Stark Tower.”

“I do.” Loki closed his eyes to rest while he could, having chose not to teleport to conserve his energy. He didn't even get five minutes.

“Let's go.” Loki opened his eyes to see Stark at the bottom of the ramp. “I'll meet you there.”

They were in the air two minutes later.

* * * * *

After the battle was over-- after Clint had killed Marvin with an explosive arrow, after Stark destroyed the waiting Chitauri fleet with a nuclear bomb, after Natasha closed the portal-- they ended up congregating, along with Doctor Selvig, in Stark's living room.

Not that getting there had been easy. The streets were covered with debris, dead bodies (some human), and people were emerging from the buildings, though they let Stark, Rogers, Banner (who had gladly accepted Loki's offer to repair his pants), and Loki into Stark Tower without bothering them. Given the work they'd done, they all appreciated it.

The elevator was crowded, and JARVIS had turned the arc reactor back on after the portal closed. “Welcome home, sir,” he'd said when the doors closed and the elevator began rising. “Agents Romanoff and Barton, as well as Doctor Selvig, are waiting for you.”

Stark leaned his head against the wall, the armor making a dull thud. “Good. Great. We can have drinks. We deserve it.”

Rogers smiled. “I thought you wanted shawarma.”

“Drinks first. Champagne? No. Something stronger.”

Then the elevator door opened. Loki stepped into the penthouse. It was somewhat of a mess-- several windows needed replacing-- but most of the damage was to the balcony and Stark's landing pad. At least from what he could tell. There was probably worse damage elsewhere. The two people sitting on the couch looked over at them, and Clint leaned against a nearby wall.

Loki smiled at Natasha. “Good job.”

“Thanks. Could you heal Doctor Selvig? At his age, a concussion isn't a good thing.”

Loki nodded, dropping the now-nearly-useless Chitauri staff weapon he'd been using next to the scepter on the coffee table. He sat next to Selvig, studying the man. He could do more than just heal the concussion.

“So you're another sorcerer? How long have you worked for SHIELD?”

Loki smiled and raised his hands, ignoring the questions. “This may hurt, depending on how injured you are.”

Selvig sat still and let Loki work. Two minutes later, Selvig was healed, and though he wouldn't know it until he went to a doctor, he was in the best health he'd been in years. Loki stood up, brushed a hand over Natasha's shoulder, and joined Stark at the bar. “Now what?”

Rogers said, “I don't know what else we _can_ do. We're a response team, not cleanup.”

Loki turned around, leaning against the bar. “Where's the Tesseract?” Natasha pointed to the large silver briefcase on the coffee table. “Stark, can you keep that thing out of SHIELD's hands overnight?”

Banner frowned at Loki. “You can't take it back now?”

Selvig looked confused, and Loki really didn't want to enlighten him. “I'm exhausted and starving. Traveling Yggdrasil's paths in this condition would not be a smart thing to do.”

Selvig's mouth dropped open. “You're from Asgard. How is Thor?”

Loki grimaced. “I don't know.” He looked away from Selvig, to where Clint leaned against the wall, fingering his bow. Loki doubted he'd put it down anytime soon. “I haven't seen my brother in nearly two years.”

“You're Loki. And you work for _SHIELD_?”

Loki looked back at him. “Now, yes.”

Selvig looked like he wanted to say more, but JARVIS said, “Sir, you have an incoming call from Director Fury.”

Loki closed his eyes. So much for a respite. “Put it through,” Stark said.

Fury's voice came over the speakers. “We'll meet you in your lobby for debriefing in fifteen minutes.”

“Anything else?” Stark said before draining the last of his drink.

“Not yet.” A click sounded over the speaker.

Stark said, “Anyone up for shawarma?”

Rogers frowned. “We should debrief first.”

Natasha stood up. “We'll be lucky if we get coffee at a SHIELD debriefing. Apart from an energy bar, I haven't eaten yet today, and I'd rather like to.”

Selvig stood up, still looking warily at Loki. “I'd rather wait for SHIELD.”

Stark shrugged. “Your choice, old man. Bruce-- you want a shirt and shoes? I need to take the suit off, anyway.”

Banner smiled and followed Stark down the hall. Natasha came over to Loki. “That went better than I expected.”

Loki shrugged. “I'd hoped to avoid Selvig, but I couldn't.” He paused. “I need to ask him something. I'll do it when we reach the lobby, give him an escape if he doesn't want to talk to me.”

Natasha raised her eyebrows but said nothing. They reached the lobby just as a veritable hoard of SHIELD agents poured into it. Stark took one look and ordered JARVIS to put the penthouse on lockdown. No one-- not even Rogers-- said anything. At this point, there was only one person in SHIELD they trusted, and that was Coulson. Selvig smiled and started walking toward the agents, but Loki said, “Doctor Selvig, I need to ask you something.”

He turned around. “My forgiveness?”

“I wouldn't dare; I don't deserve it. I'd like you to contact Doctor Foster. I'm returning the Tesseract to Asgard tomorrow, and I thought Thor would appreciate letters from you.” Selvig stared at him. “I need them by six AM. Just put them in my lab at SHIELD, or email them. My address should be in the employee directory.”

Without waiting for a response, Loki strode off after his teammates, easily dodging around the agents. He caught up with the Avengers outside, where Fury was eyeing them. “Go. If you're not at SHIELD in two hours…” He grinned, showing his teeth. “You won't like the consequences.”

Rogers said, “We'll be there, sir.”

* * * * *

They were, and it was a very long six hours later that Fury and half a dozen other people were done with them. Group reports, individual reports, and then another group meeting with Fury. All Loki wanted was dinner and sleep. But he couldn't.

“Dismissed,” Fury said from the head of the conference table. “Get some sleep; you'll need it. This is just the beginning.”

Clint groaned but stood up, dragging Natasha with him. Loki remained seated, waiting for everyone else to leave the room. “Director--”

“You and I know both know what this means, and I _know_ your lovers have figured it out, even if they haven't yet discussed it with you. Are you sure you want to return the Tesseract?”

Loki gazed at him. “There's no choice, and you know it. It can't stay on Earth.” He took a deep breath. “That's why I wanted to talk to you privately. Taking it back means letting my family know I'm alive. I'm prepared to do that, though I don't like it. But they deserve more than a notification. I'd like to let them know what I've been up to.” He took a deep breath. “I'm not staying there to talk. But something written down I can do. Which is why I need something from you.”

Fury raised his eyebrow but said nothing.

“I need copies of the weekly reports McCormack sends you, and the psychiatrist's report from New Mexico.”

Fury leaned forward. “Are you going to tell them about your work here?”

“Only in generalities unless you wish otherwise.”

Fury nodded. “Say what you need to. I'll send the reports to your lab, along with a few extra things.” He paused. “Why do I have the feeling you won't be sleeping tonight?”

Loki sheepishly smiled. “I won't have the time.”

“Make time.” He stood up and walked to the door. “Good luck.”

“Thank you.”

Loki waited until the room was empty to bury his face in his hands.

* * * * *

The next morning-- he'd managed three hours of sleep curled up next to Natasha and Clint-- the Avengers gathered at the penthouse. He'd already said his personal farewells to his partners. There was no point in making life harder for them if he didn't return. Because there was a chance, and it wasn't as slim as he'd said.

Loki said his farewells to his teammates, and then tucked the binder he'd filled last night under the arm holding the briefcase. He picked up the scepter and looked straight at the five of them as he said, “If I'm not back in an hour, I won't be.”

He took one step forward, onto the dimly lit paths of Yggdrasil. This path was easy, memorized long ago. (He couldn’t get lost on it, he reminded himself. He couldn’t.) He'd never been one to neglect other Realms. Asgard had never been enough for him. He came out, after several minutes' walk, in the Weapons Vault itself. There were no guards, though if Loki was unlucky, it would be a matter of seconds before they arrived. If not, he had minutes. Odin would know someone was in here when no one was supposed to be.

He put everything down, pulled a pair of thick leather gloves out of his pant's pocket, pulled them on, and then retrieved the Casket of Ancient Winters from where he'd stored it, pretending it wasn't there. He placed it back on its plinth, stuffed the gloves into his pocket, placed the binder on top of the Casket, and then put the open briefcase with the Tesseract on top of that. He nudged the scepter with his foot until it rested against the plinth so it wouldn't be a tripping hazard. He took a few steps back to look at the small tower of glowing blue objects. He still had time to take everything, to run, to hide--

No, he didn't. He'd made this choice when he'd first heard about the Tesseract. He wouldn't change his mind now. Loki's course was set, and though his actions doomed him, they were right.

He stepped back onto the paths and returned home.

Well, to Stark's home. Compared to the darkness of the paths, the sunlit room was almost too bright. The relieved looks most of his team gave him were welcome enough, but both Clint and Natasha drew him into a hug. Loki couldn't help it when they finally separated. He kissed both of them.

Stark said, “That actually explains things. How long have you three been together?”

Loki turned around, wrapping his arms around his partners' shoulders, and looked at the rest of the team. Banner had a contemplative expression on his face, Stark gleeful, and Rogers flabbergasted. Natasha finally said, “Nine months, but we were friends first.”

Rogers closed his mouth. “How… how does it work? I mean…”

Clint pulled away. “Cap, like with two people. It just requires a bit more communication.”

“But--”

Stark grinned. “So who started it? Were you two together before Loki arrived, or--”

“Yes,” Natasha snapped. “This isn't something we're used to talking about.”

“I still don't understand. I couldn't even make a relationship with one person work. Two?” Rogers shook his head. “You're going have to explain how it works later. But we're on a team. We all saw how Loki was when Barton was gone. I need to know if that will be a routine occurrence or if it was unique to the situation.”

Loki smiled. Rogers was handling this a lot better than Loki thought he would. “It was the situation. There are versions of mind control that are either permanent or leave the person a vegetable when the control is removed.”

“It was mostly the situation,” Clint said, leaning against Loki. “But he trusts us to do our jobs.”

Stark said, “Is this normal on Asgard?”

Loki shoved Clint off. “No.”

Banner finally spoke. “Are there any other surprises we should know about?” Loki shook his head, ignoring the very real situation he'd just caused on Asgard. Banner shrugged. “Then I don't have a problem with it if you're happy.”

Stark said, “So now what? I have a tower to fix--

Natasha said, “There's still things at SHIELD we need to deal with.”

It wasn't until the three of them were in the car, with Natasha driving, that Clint said, “Six hours until Asgard responds. I can think of things to do.”

Loki leaned against the headrest. “So can I. But I'm not sure hiding away in bed will help. I should be in Central Park or some open place.”

Natasha glanced back at him. “But you won't be.”

Loki half-smiled. “No, I won't.”

* * * * *

Thor poked the boar on his plate with his knife. It had been a normal day-- the morning spent training, the afternoon learning how to better govern the Realm, and now a quiet dinner with his parents. Quiet partly because none of them had much to say and quiet because they could never forget the person who should have been there. For all of Loki's foibles and mistakes, they still mourned him.

Thor put down his knife and reached for a pear. He froze when Father abruptly lifted his head. “There's something strange in the Vault.”

Thor grabbed Mjolnir and hurried after his father. Nothing good could come from this. Two guards met them at the Vault's entrance, both of whom were rather pale. Father asked, “What happened?”

They looked at each other and then one said, “It is better for you to see for yourself, All-father.”

They opened the doors for them and Father and Thor hurried down the steps, Thor nearly bumping him when he came to a sudden halt. Looking over his shoulder at the far end of the Vault, Thor’s stomach clenched.

The Casket was back-- and the Tesseract.

Thor remained behind Father, no matter that he wanted to rush forward, to look at the white thing separating the two artifacts, to see if Loki had left any indication of why he’d lied, or if he was safe. Odin was Loki's father, no matter his brother's origins, and had the right to examine everything first.

Father moved the Tesseract to the pedestal originally used to hold Mjolnir, and then picked up the white object. It was a binder, like the ones Thor had seen in Jane's lab. Slipped into the clear plastic cover was a note, written in Loki's handwriting. Father turned around, not bothering to examine the Casket or the scepter on the floor, and said, “Your mother needs to see this as well.”

They left the Vault after Father ordered the guards to tell no one. Until they knew more, best to let people continue to think Loki was dead.

How could Loki have done that? They'd mourned him, and he had to have known they would. If this was some jest, it was the cruelest one he'd ever played. And how had Heimdall not seen Loki?

When they returned to the royal chambers, they found Mother in the main sitting room, needlework stretched across her lap. She looked up. “What happened?”

Father moved the needlework to the end table, put the binder in her lap, and took his wife's hands. “Loki is alive.”

She pulled them from Father’s grasp and raised them to her mouth. “How?”

Father placed a hand on the binder. “He wrote us, and I anticipate the answers we seek lie in here.”

“Then let us read it,” Mother said, handing the binder to her husband as he sat between her and Thor. He held it so they could read the note together.

_Mother, Father, Brother,_

_I regret that I have to tell you of my continued existence in such a fashion, but it the only option available to me that will not result in my immediate imprisonment._

_I am under no illusion that my actions do not have legal consequences. I simply do not desire to face them at this juncture. However, that does not mean I will avoid them forever. I just need a little time to conclude my business on Midgard._

_SHIELD has employed me for the past twenty-three months, ever since I fell from the Bifrost and healed well enough to work. Contained in this binder is a record of both my mental state and my activities on Midgard. I hope they will give some context to my behavior._

_If you love me even a little-- I dare not hope for respect-- you will give me a Midgardian month, though I would prefer three. In six hours, I will remove the spell keeping Heimdall from seeing me. From that point forward, All-father, I will submit to your judgement._

_Loki_

Thor stared at the binder, unashamed of the tears welling in his eyes. His brother was alive, and that meant a chance to truly reconcile even though he faced justice. He looked at his parents-- Mother wiping a handkerchief under her eyes, and Father, who wasn’t brushing away the tears trailing down his cheek-- and then nodded to the binder. Father flipped it open and they began reading.

* * * * *

“It was still a pleasant day, after what happened yesterday,” Clint said, tossing a pillow onto Natasha's side of the bed.

Loki shook his head. “Almost _anything_ would be more pleasant than that.” He sat up, raking his hair into some sort of order with his fingers. Half an hour to go, and he needed to make himself presentable. Several hours in yet more debriefings (in which he refused to divulge anything about Asgard and especially the Weapons Vault) and then two wonderful hours in bed (and leaning against the wall, and on the couch) had done nothing to help him relax or forget what was coming. He crawled off the bed, took a fast shower, and sat down at the table, waiting for Clint to finish making French toast.

Loki glanced at the clock on the stove and sighed. It was time. He closed his eyes briefly, undid the spell that prevented Heimdall from seeing him, and opened them to find a plate of French toast set before him. He looked up to meet Clint's eyes. “It's done.”

Natasha hugged him from behind, and they ate in silence. At least, until Loki's phone began ringing. He pulled it out of his pocket, glared at the display that simply read “Reception”, and then answered. “Yes?”

A young man said, “Hi, um, there's a message for you at the receptionists' desk.”

“A message.”

“A raven brought it! It flew in the door when an agent opened it, dropped a folded piece of parchment with your name on it on the desk, and flew out again! _Please_ come and get it.”

“I'll be down shortly.”

Loki hung up and stared at the phone. “That was Greg, from Reception. Odin sent a message. Via raven.”

Clint chortled and Natasha blinked once. She picked up her fork. “Then I suggest you retrieve it.”

Loki nodded, still stunned. He ignored the strange looks that many in the lobby gave him, and picked up the parchment. Yes, it was from Father. His handwriting was rather distinct. But Loki would wait to open it until he was back in the apartment and sitting with his partners.

When he sat down, he shoved his half-eaten plate of French toast to the middle of the table. He broke the wax seal and unfolded the parchment. This was what he'd hoped for-- and dreaded. It just hadn't come in the way or form he'd anticipated. (He wondered what the All-father had to bribe the raven with; they weren't normally used as messenger birds.)

It was short and to the point, with no mention of what he'd written or collected in the binder.

_You have your three months.  
Odin All-father_

Loki dropped the parchment, breathing hard. It was three months more than he expected.

“Loki?” Natasha said.

He looked up at her with a smile. “All the time I requested.”

Clint briefly put a hand on his shoulder and then grabbed Loki's plate. “I'll heat this up for you.”

Loki watched him, watched both of them. They would be what he missed the most when he returned to Asgard in chains.


	4. Chapter 3

Loki stepped into his lab early the next morning, to see if any analysis had been done yet on the staff-energy weapons, when his main screen switched to a close-up of Fury's face. “Fury,” Loki said, raising an eyebrow.

“Loki.” Fury paused, glancing at something off his screen. He returned focus to Loki and said, “You're on the Initiative permanently.”

Loki tilted his head. “I'm leaving in three months. I told you this last night. I can't be.”

“You're a prince; you've been recalled indefinitely. Problem solved.”

Loki clenched his fists. “Director, it isn't fair to the team, and it isn't fair to me.”

“I don't care about fairness, Odinson. Public perception says you're on the team, and telling the truth would hurt both you and us. Furthermore, the Council is after blood. They don't want you on it--”

“ _I_ don't want to be on it.”

Fury smiled, rather more unnervingly than usual. “Is that the truth?”

Loki sighed. “I like having people to fight alongside. I miss it, rather more than I thought I would. I like being able to openly use magic in battle and not be mocked for it. I like the Avengers. But-- I repeat-- it isn't fair for them. They would train and fight alongside me for three months, and then I would disappear.”

“Do you really know you'll be executed?”

Loki huffed. “I don't know why you continue to disbelieve me. Mercy is rare on Asgard.”

“Rare.” Fury raised his eyebrow. “You being on the team isn't a matter for negotiation. You'll continue working in your lab unless we need the Avengers in the field.”

“Fury--”

The call disconnected. Loki snarled and tapped his fingers on the lab bench. Fury was giving him something that… Loki shook his head. He wasn't going to fight the director openly on this. There were better ways. But if the Council was after his blood, well, Fury was right. He was safer in the public eye.

* * * * *

“I don't want to.”

McCormack studied him, her hands folded on her desktop. “Why not?”

“I'll be dead in three months.”

“Ah. That's when Odin will--”

“Guards. Odin won't come personally to arrest a prisoner.” Loki rubbed his forehead and sat down in the chair. “I was planning on wrapping things up, helping with the immediate transition from Earth not knowing about alien life to something more stable and less likely to shoot on sight.”

“You need to be visible for that. Being on the team--”

“I know, I know. But I don't like-- I don't _want_ \-- people relying on me to be there. It's unfair for not just my team, but for Midgard. As far as I know, I'm the best sorcerer Earth has. Take me away, what defense do you have? SHIELD needs to work on its own, not rely on me to fight.”

“We will. You know this. The restraints, the cell--”

“Weapons? You know so very little, but they may work.” Loki shrugged. “Aliens aren't bulletproof. You breach their armor; you can kill them.”

McCormack shuddered. “It's breaching the armor that's the difficult part.”

Recalling the leviathans, Loki could only agree. “But my being on the team won't be easy. I'm not cleared for fieldwork.”

McCormack leaned forward. “That will change.” She slid a manila folder across her desk. “Starting tomorrow afternoon, you'll be in meetings for a full-scale psychiatric evaluation. You'll talk to other psychologists and at least one psychiatrist.”

Loki flipped the folder open, scanning the first page. “Not you?”

She shook her head. “I can't. I know you too well. It needs to be an independent evaluation, and they will be questioning me as well.”

“From the looks of this, they'll be talking to everyone who knows me.”

“They will. They need to make sure you're stable enough for it.”

Loki half-smiled, not quite sure which answer he'd prefer. “Am I?”

McCormack leaned back, a slow smile appearing on her face. “I think so. The problem is that you still need therapy. While the two aren't mutually exclusive, the exceptions tend to be made for agents who have problems that need resolving based on their experiences in the field. You… It will be more difficult.”

Loki snorted. “Then why even bother to try? By the time the evaluation is finished, less than two months will remain.”

“Because there _are_ two months.” She leaned forward slightly. “And there's always the chance, no matter how small, that you won't be executed.”

Loki shook his head. “It's so small I dare not dwell on it. The last time I hoped for something relating to Father… I ended up trying to commit genocide and suicide. I don't want to risk losing my mind again. I can't hope for it, Doctor.” He smirked. “You've pushed me to think realistically. This is as realistic as it gets: I will be executed for my crimes.”

McCormack sighed. “Loki, if that wasn't an issue, what would you want to do?”

Loki looked down at his hands. “I'd be on the team. They're interesting, and we work well together. We're willing to do what it takes, even against the supposed leaders who think they know better.”

“So the--”

“Bomb?” Loki frowned. “Its very existence… Asgard doesn't have weapons like that, not ones that will poison people long after they have been used.” He met her eyes. “We do have terrible, destructive weapons-- and things that can be turned into them. But those are to be used at last resort. There's cultural reasons why we fight with swords, axes, and hammers. Just because we _can_ do something doesn't mean we will.”

“Hence, on a lesser scale, the problem with you using magic on the battlefield.”

Loki nodded. “Which is one of the reasons why I want to be on the Avengers. None of them care.”

McCormack smiled. “Then take this chance. As you said, it is possibly your final one. Why not be happy in your last few months?”

Loki stared at her, speechless.

* * * * *

Loki tugged his tie, straightening the knot. Four days after the invasion, and it was nearly time for one of the most anticipated events in the world: the meet-the-Avengers press conference. Stark alone looked happy. Banner looked like he wanted to be anyplace else. (He couldn't be; there were too many online videos of him transforming into the Hulk.) Rogers looked calm, but kept glaring daggers at Stark when he thought no one was looking. And Loki was huddled with his lovers in the corner of the room farthest from the door.

“I don't like this,” Tasha said. “We're spies.”

“There's cell phone footage of us all over the Internet. We met the president two hours ago. There's nothing we have left to lose from this,” Clint said. “We can't hide any longer.” He placed a hand on their arms. “I think Stark will dominate this, anyway.”

“If Fury and Rogers will let him. And presuming people won't want to talk to the friendly alien in their midst.”

Tasha snorted. “Stark is the only one who wants to be here. I _want_ him to dominate.”

Loki raised his eyebrows. “If this is the only press conference I have to do, so much the better. I thought I'd escaped the questioning and harassment that came with court life.”

Clint removed his hand from their arms and brushed off his own suit jacket. “Don't permanently join the Avengers, and you will.”

“It's too late for that, Barton,” Fury said from behind them. “Time to face the music.”

Natasha squeezed by them and they followed her out of the room, down a short hallway and a right turn into the hastily constructed press room. Loki glanced at the crowd of people and equipment and made sure his polite-yet-attentive mask was on. His future on Midgard depended on his actions here and now. He wouldn't be safe if he somehow managed to turn people against him. There was always that chance-- he knew the major cultural pitfalls, but not many of the minor ones. And with him being openly from another planet just days after another extraterrestrial species invaded… Coulson (stuck on light duty in the helicarrier for six weeks) had warned him that he shouldn't travel unaccompanied, not even to the library.

Fury sat down at the end of the table, with Natasha next to him, Loki next to her, Clint on Loki's right, Rogers next to him, then Stark, and then Banner closest to the door. Which was not quite the order Fury had planned, but Stark obviously wanted to leave Banner an escape route. Which was only the intelligent thing to do, all things considered. Loki kept the smirk off his face when Stark reached out and moved the paper labels so they were in front of the correct people.

And then they were live.

Fury stared-- almost glaring-- at the crowd of reporters. “The Avengers Initiative was proposed several years ago so a trained force could address the issues that were slowly coming to light: of supervillains, aliens, and other dangers that conventional forces were and still are unprepared to fight. Last week, I made the decision to assemble them. They did exactly what they were supposed to. They saved the world.” Fury glanced at them. “The question and answer segment will take no more than half an hour. One question at a time, people. Ladies and gentlemen, the Avengers.”

Fury leaned back and Loki took a deep breath, glancing at his lovers. Natasha looked composed and Clint bored. As did Stark, who answered the first question. “Of course we'd like to physically help with the rebuilding, because money isn't enough. Problem is you'd be forced to redo everything we've done. None of us have building experience. While I may have designed Stark Tower, I certainly didn't construct it. Half of us are scientists of one sort or another, and the other half are SHIELD agents.”

Natasha smiled. “We're not exactly capable of rebuilding New York City.”

Most of the crowd chuckled, which Loki took to be a good sign, until a middle-aged blond man said from the back of the room, “Magic could do it.”

Loki said, “As Mr. Stark said, I have no experience in construction, and certainly not construction as it's done here. I mostly focused on spells that could be useful in battle. Furthermore, using magic is neither easy nor effortless.”

“So you're not a god, then?” a woman in bright red shirt asked.

Loki actually laughed, something he hadn't expected to do. “I'm an alien from a different planet. I'm no more divine than you are. Some people call me a demigod. I'm fine with that term as long as it's the definition that doesn't require me to have a god for a parent.” Loki paused for a second, judging the mood. “The Norse mythos that you are familiar with is generally wrong. It was the reaction of a people who were caught in the midst of a war they couldn't understand, and their attempt to explain it and the world around them. Rest assured, I am _not_ the Loki from the myths; he is simply based on and expanded from the little the Norse knew about me.”

The room went silent for a moment and then someone else asked, “Captain Rogers, how do you like being on a team with a magician?”

Rogers leaned forward. “I have no reason to doubt Loki's combat abilities. He hasn't claimed to be anything other than what he just said, and has attempted to explain how his magic is complementary to science. I confess to not understanding, but then--”

“Neither did Doctor Banner nor I. We'll work on it,” Stark said, smiling at Loki. “It'll be fun.”

“But, Mr. Odinson, why did you chose to fight? Earth isn't your home.”

Loki sighed. “I live here, not on Asgard. It is my home.”

“Why do you live here? By all accounts of what you haven't said, we're primitive.”

Loki stared at the young man. Time to show why he's called Silvertongue. “For multiple reasons, I prefer Earth to Asgard. One of the main ones is the underlying philosophies of the Realms. Asgard is a warrior society, with close quarters weapons being the most honorable to use. Sorcery is barely tolerated in battle, and in addition to that, I have always been what you would call a 'bookworm.' Earth is more understanding of both those traits.”

“So it was easy for you to adapt?” someone else said.

Loki shook his head. “Hardly. I've only been here for a little less than two years. I still make plenty of mistakes. I know the major taboos and cultural phenomena, but the little things-- the unstated assumptions that everyone thinks all adults know-- confuse me.”

Loki leaned back in his seat as a similar question was asked of Rogers. That covered everything he needed to make clear, and no one had reacted entirely negative. (Yet.) Maybe now the reporters would leave him alone. Which didn't happen, but at least they weren't focusing on him to the exclusion of everyone else. Stark managed to play the media, distracting them from uncomfortable questions and giving half-answers to the ones that couldn't be avoided. Loki kept the smile off his face when he realized exactly how well Stark succeeded, and reminded himself to talk to the man later.

Thankfully, Fury wrapped it up at exactly the half hour mark, and the Avengers left the press room, returning to the room where they'd met before the press conference. Fury closed the door behind them, and Loki slumped against the wall. “Never again.”

Fury grinned. “I'm afraid you won't have a choice, Odinson. They liked you.”

Stark bit back a laugh and Loki glared at Fury. “One misstep and they'll eat me alive. ”

“Welcome to the spotlight,” Stark said. “All of us will be wanted on talk shows sooner or later. You're an alien; it'll be sooner for you.”

Fury nodded and Natasha rubbed a hand up and down Loki's arm. “Fury can't force you to go. This went well. _You_ did well.”

He reached up and placed a hand on hers. “Thanks.”

Rogers said, “How did the rest of us do?”

Fury smiled. “Very well indeed. They should leave you alone for the next few days.”

Clint groaned. “As if I don't have enough to deal with.”

Fury didn't respond to that, and focused his eye on Stark. “ _You_ have just become the Avengers go-to person for media interviews. I don't know how you managed it given your screw-ups in the past, but you kept everything under control.”

Stark grinned and stopped tapping at his phone. “Practise. Anyway, I'm kidnapping the Avengers. We're going to the Tower for lunch. No offense, Fury, but I'm not touching the food in that cafeteria.”

Clint said, “I have meetings--”

“They can wait. This is more important.”

Clint opened his mouth but Fury said, “They'll be postponed until tomorrow morning. Same for yours, Loki.” He turned back to Stark. “Leave me out of this. I don't want to know if you're even up to something. Enjoy your lunch, and try not to destroy anything you don't have to.”

Stark simply smiled. It wasn't a pretty smile, either. Oh, this was going to be _fun_.

The lunch itself was quiet, as people who didn't really know each other-- most of whom were introverted, shy, cautious, or reticent-- could be. Stark, on the other hand, rarely shut up and for some reason, was expounding on the music he preferred to listen to. Loki let him, even though he was tempted multiple times to use a silencing spell.

But after lunch was over-- there were no leftovers, and Rogers consumed nearly as much as Thor would have-- they decamped to the repaired living room. Loki gravitated toward the once-broken windows and stared out over the city. The damage was all too apparent from up here, but that didn't stop him from enjoying the view. And wondering what it would look like if the bomb hadn't been stopped. He shook his head to dislodge the thought and turned to face the seating area. “Why did you bring us here, Stark?”

The man put down his coffee mug and said, “Normally I'm the last one to suggest team exercises. It's even in my file; I don't play well with others. But I've been working on something, and I thought I'd get your input. Specifically yours, Loki. You're the demigod of mischief.”

Rogers frowned and leaned forward. “Why us, then?”

Stark sighed. “The Council is anonymous and as much as Fury plays them and ignores them, he still answers to them. He can only go through official channels. We don't have to.”

Rogers' eyebrows raised. “You're hacking into SHIELD's database and finding the Council.”

Banner took off his glasses. “It's already done. Tony and I weren't going to bring the rest of you into this until we knew we had what we needed.”

Rogers said, “Half of this team works for SHIELD and you expect them--”

“They tried to kill us, and millions of civilians, because they didn't trust that we could do our jobs,” Natasha said. “I'm in.”

Clint grinned. “So am I. For all I'm concerned, Fury's the one in charge. I listen to him.”

Rogers said, “Loki?”

Loki grinned and met Stark's eyes. “I already had plans, but you saved me a lot of work. Rogers--”

“The minute they tried to wipe out New York is the minute I lost any interest in obeying them. Let's get to work.”

Stark said, “JARVIS, bring up videos one and two.”

The television flicked on and a conference call with Fury and the Council appeared. A disembodied voice said, “This call occurred the night the Avengers were being gathered.”

Loki raised his eyebrows. “Who is that?”

Stark said, “JARVIS, my AI. He controls this place.”

Loki nodded and turned his attention back to the screen. The question now became: how intelligent and how much control? Was he the human version of what they considered a limited AI or was he an actual one? But those were answers that could wait for later, because the diffident way Stark acted was enough of a clue that he was the latter, and that was something to be taken up in private, where proper protocols for interaction could be established in order to respect _JARVIS'_ privacy and security.

A councilman said, “We're running the world's greatest security network, and you're going to leave the fate of the human race to a handful of freaks.”

Fury said, “I'm not leaving anything to anyone. We need a response team. These people may be isolated, unbalanced even. But I believe with the right push, they can be exactly what we need.”

The image on the television paused and Stark said, “That's their opinion of us, before we were even a team. It hasn't changed much. This was the morning after the invasion.” The video resumed, still with the same silhouettes.

The same man said, “I don't think you understand what you've started, letting the Avengers loose on this world. They're dangerous.”

Fury's response brought a smile to Loki's face. “They surely are, and the whole world knows it. _Every_ world knows it.”

A woman said, “Was that the point in all of this? A statement?”

Fury said, “A promise.”

The television turned off. Rogers said, “So they don't trust us. We guessed as much. Going after them will just prove that they were right not to.”

Loki said, walking over to the rest of them, “They made a mistake, a rather grievous one. They need to know about it.”

Stark nodded. “You can't just try to kill a city and not pay for it.”

“It's worse than that,” Loki said softly. “The bomb wouldn't have worked.” Everyone stared at him. “The suit's repulsers didn't penetrate the shielding around the device. The energy and force in the bomb wouldn't have either. The best case scenario, a one in a billion chance, is that the bomb would have wiped out the city and disrupted the mechanics through sheer luck-- probably caused by this building collapsing-- and shut down the portal. More likely, the portal would simply have shifted so even if the device was laying on the ground, the portal would still be open. It didn't need to be vertical; that's just the most convenient arrangement. The worst case-- nothing would have disrupted it, the city would be dead, and the world would have little hope of defeating the Chitauri-- is also the most likely.”

Loki met every single set of eyes. “That's what we need to tell the Council. This isn't revenge for not trusting us. It's to ensure they won't do something so catastrophically idiotic again.”

Stark said, “So you don't mind the not-trusting thing?”

Loki chuckled. “I don't trust myself half the time, Stark. They can choose to trust us or not as they will. We'll either change their minds or we won't. Their opinion doesn't currently matter. We need to focus on a simple and effective method of informing the Council.”

“Computer graphics, with text,” Clint said. “Illustrate each scenario-- actually, skip the successful one, they don't need to know that. They're scared enough to think it's an encouragement. And leave what really happened for last.”

“Right.” Stark strode to his desk and activated the computer. Rogers stared at the holograms but they gathered around it and spent the next hour designing the warning. Because it _was_ a warning-- signed “The Avengers” with Stark only bothering to do minimal track-erasing.

Once sent, Stark leaned back in his chair and ran his hands through his hair. “Drinks, anyone?”

Without waiting for an answer, he wandered over to his bar and poured himself something. “That actually wasn't the only reason I asked you here. Bruce has already moved in, and I think Steve has an apartment somewhere in Brooklyn, but you three? You want to continue living at SHIELD?”

Natasha frowned. “What are you offering?”

Stark came back over to the desk and tapped another tiny icon. Blueprints, of six floors in the Tower, hovered over the desk. “This. One floor for each of us.”

Rogers said, “You seriously want us to live here. One fight doesn't make us--”

“Yeah, but we're here and we're not arguing,” Stark said. “We'll have a common floor, with a kitchen, entertainment systems, a gym, and all that jazz. There will even be a shooting range and an entire floor dedicated to training. The individual floors will be controlled as the occupants want.” He pointed at Loki, Natasha, and Clint. “Though I don't know what to do for you three. Clint and Natasha, I don't dare pick anything out for you. Loki. You said you're a bookworm. A library? And what about sleeping arrangements?”

Natasha raised her eyebrows. “Why would we move in? We have an apartment--”

Clint brushed her arm. “I'm tired of being watched every time we go out for dinner, or to drag Loki out of the library. And we do need more space.”

Loki sighed. “Not in three months.”

Rogers said, “All right, that's enough. You mentioned wanting your _family_ to think you're dead. What happened on Asgard to make you so worried?”

Loki looked down at the desk. “I went insane, nearly succeeded in killing my brother-- the heir to the throne-- and almost destroyed Jotunnheim.” He met Rogers' eyes. “So I'm fairly sure I'll return to Asgard and be executed. Anything else would be disproportionate to my crimes.” He glanced at Stark. “There's no need for a floor for me, much less a bedroom. When my three months here are over, you won't see me again.”

He left the group and walked back to the window. Behind him, he could hear Natasha explaining and ignored it.

There was no point in pretending. There was no point in making new friends, moving somewhere comfortable where there didn't have to be a schedule for the lone shower if he didn't feel like returning to his own quarters, where half the food he ate didn't come from the cafeteria, where he could have a relationship he wanted where he didn't have to worry about breaking laws simply by being in it.

_There was no point to_ any _of it_.

Yet he still wanted it.

“You know, people called me the Merchant of Death. Still do, I think,” Stark said at Loki's elbow. “Here. You look like you need this.”

Loki turned a bit, still keeping his back to the rest of the group, and took the shot glass from Stark. “Why?”

“Why'd they call me that? I made weapons--”

“No, you moron. I know that. Why the drink? Why the sympathy?”

“Empathizing, I think it's called.” Stark waved his tumbler at the group still talking quietly behind them. “Steve's the only one in the team who isn't a monster of some sort or another. You and I are the worst of the bunch. Seems like I tried damn hard to destroy this planet, and I didn't care a bit.”

Loki swallowed the shot and fiddled with the glass. “I wanted them dead. I remember everything I did, though now I don't understand why it made sense. Tell me, Stark, how can you look me in the eye and say you want me around? Rogers won't be able to; he fought against men like me. I don't know why Clint and Natasha fell in love with me.”

“Why'd you fall in love with them?”

Loki turned back to face the city, though he kept an eye on Stark's faint reflection. “They welcomed me; they accepted me; they told me I wasn't the only monster around.”

“Why not befriend me, or the rest of us?”

Loki sighed and leaned his head on the window. “There's no point. I'll be dead in three months.”

“No, see, that's actually the point. Two years ago, I was dying. The arc reactor was killing me; I had to discover a new element to run it. So rather than lock myself away, I lived.” He waggled his head a bit. “Well, I was more than a bit reckless, and SHIELD guessed why. But the point is, you shouldn't hide yourself away.” Stark leaned against the glass and Loki straightened up so Stark was less in his personal space. “Why are you so sure you'll be executed?”

Loki shrugged, noting the conversation behind him had died down. They were listening. “My insanity is not an excuse; there's no such thing as an insanity defense on Asgard. At best, it would be a mitigating factor and may even play a role in deciding the death sentence. After all, if I'm dead, I can't go insane again.” He smiled bitterly. “The Jotunn would be well within their rights to kill me if Odin doesn't. This isn't a lesson for me, not like when Thor was sent here.” Loki lost his smile. “What's there for me to learn? I can't resurrect those I killed, and I doubt any weregild I could offer would be accepted. I learned that the throne suits me ill. And that's something I'd already suspected. I just wanted to be Thor's equal, to have the same respect he did. I never will. I could have, once, if I had behaved differently. But I didn't, and I can expect no leniency.” Loki finally met Stark's eyes. “I have a feeling the peace between Asgard and Jotunnheim depends on my execution, and Odin will choose peace over his dishonored son.

“I pretended that I had a second chance here on Midgard. Saving the world…” Loki shook his head. “It means nothing. I have so much blood on my hands they will never be washed clean. No matter how many times I help, no matter how much I regret…” Loki looked, with tears in his eyes, at Stark. “I don't want to die, Stark. But I deserve to. I'll walk to my execution without bonds, giving my family the last bit of honor I can, to show that I truly, deeply wish that none of it had happened. To show that I don't contest my sentence, that I agree with it.” Loki spread his hands slightly. “It's all I have left to give.”

“No, it isn't,” Stark said. “You may not be welcome on Jotunnheim, fine. Even Asgard. But you're welcome here. _I_ welcome you, and I'm pretty much the last person to say, 'No, we don't want you. You're a murderer.' There isn't a single person in this room who hasn't killed another sentient being, and I'm not talking about the Chitauri. We may not have as much blood on our hands as you do-- I might have more, actually, depending on what numbers you go by and how many Jotunn died-- but we do have it. Yeah, the trying to destroy another planet thing… That I'm not comfortable with. But you don't want to do it again.” Loki shook his head. “So stop trying to push us away. If you die in three months, we're going to make sure it's the best three months of your life. All right?” Loki nodded, flat-out unable to speak. “One more thing-- it's Tony, not Stark. Now, come on, I want to hear it.”

“All right… Tony.”

“Good. So, sleeping arrangements?” Tony wrapped an arm around Loki's shoulders and led him to the desk, where they put down the glasses. “One bedroom, two, three, four?”

Loki latched on to the question. “Two. One large for all three of us, and a small one for me. I need my privacy.”

Clint said, “Works for me. That'll be our main floor, Natasha and I don't mind sharing. ” 

“Right. A living room and kitchen in your shared floor… Your bedroom, Loki-- privacy supreme.”

“How much does JARVIS see?”

“Ah.” Tony rubbed his goatee. “If you want, I could block him almost entirely out. I can't do it completely, but I can remove all the inputs and just leave a speaker or something.”

“That's acceptable.”

Natasha said, “That goes for the shared floor, too. Full input is fine in the living room and kitchen, but no place else.”

Tony glanced among the three of them and slowly nodded. “Right. Spies. I'll see what I can manage.”

Natasha slowly smiled. “Do more than manage, Stark.”

His eyes got a little wide, and nodded. “Anyone else have any problems with JARVIS?”

Banner and Rogers shook their heads. Rogers said, “I think I like him. There are advantages to living in the future. An actual AI is one of them.”

Tony blinked and then laughed. “Okay. So, Loki-- library, definitely. What sort of books? Anything else?”

“A workroom. Plain walls, though windows are fine. Wooden tables or lab benches. It needn't be large. As for books, I'm partial to history and anthropology, and in fiction, I gravitate toward epic fantasy and science fiction, books were the stakes are high and planets are at risk.”

Banner said, “Have you read _Lord of the Rings_?”

Loki turned. “Yes, and _The Silmarillion_.”

Rogers smiled. “Waking up and finding there were numerous sequels to _The Hobbit_ was one of things that made this time bearable.”

“Have you seen the movies?” Tony asked from over Loki's shoulder.

Rogers said, “Not yet.”

“Then we'll watch them later. Right now, I have a tower to finish designing.”

Loki rolled his eyes and made to go back to his spot by the window, but Natasha caught his arm. In a low voice, she said, “Steve needs to ask you a few questions.”

Loki held back a sigh, sank down onto the couch, and stared at Rogers. He cleared his throat and said, “How insane?”

“Diagnosed psychotic. I'm recovered now; it was brought on by unique stressors.”

“But you don't know if you're stable.”

Loki shook his head. “I _am_ stable. It's in my employment contract that I'm in therapy every weekday. I'm dealing with my issues much better than I was. That doesn't mean we don't worry.” Loki leaned forward. “Thing is, Captain, when Fury said to the Council there were unstable people in the Initiative, he wasn't talking about me. I was never considered for it. Clint's… capture… was the driving force behind my demand to fight. I was doing pure lab work.”

Banner said, “What, precisely?”

“Integrating magic and your technology, mostly focusing on computers.”

“The restraints and cell used to hold the sorcerer,” Rogers said, interrupting them, “were made for you.”

Loki nodded slowly, once. “I made them to hold me. As I said, I don't trust myself.”

“And you expect us to trust you?”

“No. I understand if you don't want me on the team-- I'm not pushing for it myself-- but--”

“You're valuable, and you're wasted in the lab. You may not be the man whom I would have chosen to fight alongside of, but I'm willing to work with you.”

Loki nodded. “That's more than I can ask for, from any of you. I fully expected to be told 'no' after I told you my past. I still expect it.”

“Not going to happen, Loki,” Tony said, still at his desk manipulating holograms. “I want you here, and so do your lovers.”

Rogers made a face. “Speaking of them, Fury said you and Clint have meetings.”

Clint said, “I need to be cleared by Psych before I can return to the field. It'll be at least three weeks. Loki needs to be cleared, period. Whether you like it or not, Stark, Psych may decide Loki isn't fit for field work and that'll be the end of it.”

“You won't fight it?” Rogers said.

Loki shook his head. “I work for SHIELD. If they don't want me in the field, I'll listen. I don't want to risk my mental health.”

“Either way, you're still moving in,” Tony said.

Natasha laughed. “You're ordering us? Ordering _me_?”

Tony pointed a finger at her. “Just don't stab me in the neck again.”

“I make no promises.”

“See, that's why you scare me.”

“I scare everyone, Stark.”

“It's why we need each other,” Banner said. “May as well be scared together.”

Natasha shot him a funny look. “It's not my idea of fun. But living here will get us out of the Council's hands. If they can't control where we live, they'll have a harder time controlling us.”

Clint smiled. “Good enough reason for me. When--”

“Two weeks, maybe three,” Tony said. “I'll let you know. Steve?”

“I like Brooklyn, Tony. So it may not be permanent right away.”

“Hey, I'm not asking you to give up your living space entirely. I doubt those three will get rid of their apartment at SHIELD anytime soon. They're spies, after all. But you'll have twenty-four hour access to a gym you can't break.”

Rogers smiled. “You certainly know how to sweet-talk a man. How did you figure we'd want to move in with you?”

Tony's shoulders set and he took a deep breath before turning around. “Because, outside of the team, how many of us have someone we can turn to, or someone who can understand? I have Pepper and Rhodey, and those three have Coulson. But when it comes down to it, three people aren't enough.”

Rogers said, “Yeah. Yeah, I get that. Keep us updated.”

He headed for the elevator. Natasha raised her eyebrows. “Time for us to return, Stark. See you at the debriefing tomorrow.”

Tony groaned, and Loki made a private bet with himself as the triad joined Rogers on the elevator that Tony wouldn't show up. (He didn't.)

* * * * *

Loki woke up when Clint rolled away from him and padded out of the bedroom. At first, he thought Clint just needed to use the bathroom, but he didn't hear the faint sound of water running-- but he did hear rustling. Loki sighed and looked at Natasha, still sleeping peacefully. He gave it two minutes before she followed them out of bed.

Loki slid out from under the comforter and crept to the bedroom door. He had to pull it open, which should have been a sign Clint hadn't planned on returning to bed. The light over the table was on, so Loki hurriedly stepped through the doorway and closed the door behind him. There was always the slim chance Natasha would continue sleeping. “Hey.”

Clint looked up from his seat, the table covered with newspaper. His pistol lay on it, next to the cleaning kit. “Hey.”

Loki sat down in his chair. “Nightmare?”

Clint picked up his gun, showed Loki it was empty, and then began cleaning it. For the fifth time that week, when he hadn't shot it. After a few minutes of silence, Clint said, “Sometimes, I dream it's you wielding that scepter. Or Natasha, or Fury, or even Coulson.” He met Loki's eyes. “Marvin asked about the Avengers. So I told him. Not about you, or your magic. He'd guessed SHIELD would have a sorcerer on call, so he never asked. He thought of us as minions, and that SHIELD treated us the same way.”

“That you're expendable.”

Clint nodded. “None of us are. But the security risks I exposed… The information I gave away… The people who died because of my actions… As much as they weren't my fault or things I'd do willingly, they happened.”

“People tend not to blame you, Clint,” Natasha said from behind them. “They mostly feel sorry for you. The fact that you helped fight off an invasion went a long way toward repairing the damage.”

Loki smiled at her as she sat down, her own guns in hand. “I'd wondered when we'd see you.”

She smirked and reached for the oil. “You shut the door too loudly.” She looked at Clint. “The dreams will fade in time.”

“Sometimes I feel like nothing more than a hired gun-- bow, I guess. It helps knowing we're fighting on the right side. But I was turned against myself, against my family and my friends. I can't get over that.”

Natasha reached out and her hand on Clint's. He put down the wire brush and briefly squeezed hers. “We don't expect you to. I won't lie to you, Clint. There will always be that bit of doubt, especially in the first few months. But you have to act as if it isn't there, else it _will_ poison everything. Loki said there's no connection--”

“But we don't know that. If there are compulsions--”

“You killed him,” Loki said. “If there were any compulsions there, forbidding that would have been one of them. That sort of mind control doesn't allow for them, anyway. It's simply control, a forced change of allegiance. You fought it, Clint.”

Natasha picked up one of her guns. “You shot Fury in his body armor. You didn't tell Marvin about Loki. I'm sure you can think of more things that didn't actively hinder him, but nor did they help him, and they helped us simply by not being the worse outcome.”

Clint smiled. “Yeah, I can.” His smile faded. “So why can't I accept that?”

“It's not how the human mind works,” Natasha said, reaching for one of the brushes. “It hasn't even been two weeks. If you still have a problem in a month, talk to Psych. PTSD isn't something to mess around with.”

“Yeah,” Clint muttered.

“In the meantime,” Loki said, “we're here. Even at two in the morning.”

Clint snorted, but a smile crept onto his face and stayed there.

* * * * *

Clint collapsed onto the couch. “I'm sick of this.”

Loki smirked and dumped the cubed beef into the stir-fry Natasha was making. “At least this afternoon you got to talk about me instead.”

Clint sat up and glared at him. “It was a nice change for you, then, too.”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Knock it off, both of you. Loki, thanks for your help.”

He took the hint and left the kitchen to sit next to Clint on the couch. Loki said, “I'm tired of the paperwork, of the questions I can't figure out a point to, questions I can't reason what the right answer is. I _know_ there are some cultural differences in the expected answers, and I hope they've realized that.”

Clint nodded. “They should have. At least I know the parameters and what I'm expected to say, and even then, things are different than normal.”

Natasha said, “Similar processes, different reasoning. Stop trying to outsmart them, Clint; it won't work. Stark called, by the way. He said we should be able to move in next Thursday.”

Loki grimaced. “If we're allowed to leave the building. If they don't decide to lock me up--”

Clint nudged him in the side. “If they were concerned enough to do that, they already would have.” To Natasha, he said, “We won't be able to move in until the following Wednesday. That's three weeks for me.”

Loki buried his head in his hands. “I have absolutely no idea how long I'll be waiting for the result, but I'm more than willing to move as soon as possible. I'm trying to behave, I really am.”

Natasha moved the skillet off the stove and onto the table. “Food's ready. Loki, if you try to hack in to see what they're saying, they're just going to question you longer. You're smarter than that.”

Clint stood up. “And usually more patient.”

“I don't have the time to be patient,” Loki snapped. Clint's back stiffened and Natasha's lips thinned. “Sorry. I didn't mean to remind--”

Clint grabbed Loki's hand and pulled him off the couch and into a hug. “Stop it,” he whispered in Loki's ear. “We know. We know.”

It was a silent dinner, and while Loki did eat some, he mostly poked at his serving of stir-fry with his fork. After Clint cleaned up, they sat in front of the television until Natasha said, “You won the bet-- thirteen days before you snuck into the range.”

Clint laughed and Loki let a little smile onto his face. He'd nearly forgotten about that. He peered around Natasha. “Do you want it now or are you saving it for later?”

Clint leered. “Now. Unless there's something else you want to do.”

“I can't think of anything,” Natasha said with a shrug.

“Tasha, I'm giving you oral. Loki… I'd like to penetrate you.”

“ _Please_.” Loki inhaled, trying to retain some measure of dignity. He still wasn't fond of penetrating someone, but _being_ penetrated was an entirely different story. No one had been willing to do it to him on Asgard, so it had come as an utter shock that he enjoyed it so much. “I would very much like that.”

“Well, then. We may as well begin,” Tasha said, standing up and unbuttoning her blouse. “Clint?”

Clint grinned at them and followed them into their bedroom.

* * * * *

“No no no!” Tony said, waving his arms. “The boxes go over here!”

Natasha rolled her eyes and kept walking into the bedroom. Loki grinned at Tony and followed her, wondering how the man had ever moved before. Probably he'd had people unpack for him. Combined, the three of them hadn't many belongings-- mostly clothes, a rug Natasha had bought years ago in Mexico, a few knickknacks of Clint's, an amount of weaponry that Loki suspected other humans would find frightening but he thought normal, and their books. They did leave some things in the apartment, and Loki had turned over his quarters back to SHIELD-- there was no need to keep it-- but overall, they had moved into Stark Tower. And Tony was trying to micromanage everything.

Clint had muttered something about shooting him and made himself scarce. Loki thought it was even odds whether he was in the ventilation system or testing out the range. Still, he and Natasha could handle Tony. All she had to do was smile evilly at him. Which she did.

When the elevator door closed behind Tony, Loki let out a breath of relief and took the opportunity of a Tony-free environment to properly look at their shared bedroom. It was more demure than Loki had expected, given Tony's exploits. But then, he hadn't designed this room for himself. Floor-to-ceiling windows on two walls, all controlled for privacy so they could actually set if they appeared solid or clear (and they were mirrored on the outside for optimal privacy). The bed-- large enough for six people, let alone three-- was in the center of the room, with the wooden headboard against the wall. Opposite that was the entry door, and next to that was the the door to the bathroom. Which had three showers, two toilets, a bidet, three sinks, three walk-in closets, and a large bathtub. Loki tried not to be awestruck, but this entire floor-- six of the them!-- had been remodeled in three weeks. He wouldn't have expected work on Asgard to even be completed that swiftly. But Tony had money, and money meant power.

He took the box Natasha handed him and set about unpacking all their bathing supplies. Against the size of the room, it seemed a bit pathetic but it was what they had. Then Clint came in carrying the last of the clothing, which he stuck in Loki's closet. “Have you seen the rest of this place?”

Loki shook his head. “Not yet. I thought you were hiding.”

Clint laughed. “Tasha would kill me if I skipped out.”

“I'd hang you by your feet in some dark, forgotten corner,” she said from the doorway. “Loki, go explore.”

Loki grinned and left their bedroom. First place he stopped was his room. Which was tiny, compared to their bedroom, but it suited him. A small bed, a desk against the window, bookcase on the wall opposite the bed, a lockable door leading into the shared bathroom, and a comfortable chair to read in with a floor lamp next to it. From the colors and style of furniture, Loki could only assume Tony had peeked in Loki's old quarters and talked to Coulson and/or his lovers, because the room was perfect.

He then went into the living area, have been too busy ferrying boxes to really look at it before. There was a small kitchen with a large peninsula that looked more to be for eating on than anything else, as there was no table, and bar stools surrounded it. A large fireplace was in the corner, next to the ubiquitous floor-to-ceiling windows, with a rust-red couch placed in front of it. Another sitting area was in front of the kitchen, and had clear views of both the elevator and the windows. The colors-- muted reds and browns-- were cozy.

He couldn't help but peek in the fridge. Fully stocked with the basics.

He nearly ran into Natasha in the hallway, carrying yet another box. “Clint's books,” she said. “We're going to need a bookcase out here.” She tilted her head. “You haven't seen your library yet.”

Loki smiled. “Last place I'm looking.”

“We'll drag you out for dinner, whenever that'll be. Stark mentioned something about a party.”

Loki raised his eyebrows and let Natasha by before heading to the wooden spiral staircase tucked in the corner between the kitchen and the empty room at the opposite side of the building from their bedroom that Clint and Natasha hadn't yet decided what to do with. The stairs ended with his workroom door on his right, and the library spread out on his left. He checked out the workroom first (perfect size and completely empty save for the lab benches lining three walls).

Loki shut the workroom door behind him and stood there, just staring. The wall across from the elevator was yet more windows, and the rest of the room was covered in dark wooden bookcases, most of them waist- or chest-high save for the ones lining the walls that reached to the ceiling. There was a fireplace nook with a black leather recliner placed in front of it to the left, and a nearly identical desk to Tony's stood perpendicular to the window in the far corner, and a triangular shape made by three love seats in the center of the room with a triangular glass coffee table in the middle. The floor was a hardwood stained darker than the bookcases. The splashes of colors-- mostly in the form of pillows on the cream couches-- were gold, several shades of green, and bronze. It was nothing like he had expected. And yet, it _fit_.

“JARVIS, where's Tony?”

“I believe Captain Rogers would say he was harassing him.”

Loki chuckled, and noted the faint tone of surprise in the AI's voice. “Would you please inform him that I wish to speak with him?”

“Of course, Mr. Odinson.”

“Loki, please. I must offer my apologies, JARVIS. When I said I didn't want you in my bedroom, I simply meant that. I am used to servants, though I don't quite know what your role is here. I grew up knowing people will be nearby constantly, waiting to answer my every whim, and a haven to retreat to is necessary for me. If you desire to speak to me outside of it, please do.”

“Of course, sir. Tony should be arriving shortly.”

“Thank you.”

Loki stepped further into the room, so Tony wouldn't catch him gawking in front of the door. Two minutes later, Tony strolled into the room. “You like it?”

Loki looked up from the history book he'd pulled from the shelf nearest him. “I do. I hadn't anticipated all of this.” He closed the book and returned it to the shelf. “Especially not the Macintosh.” Loki nodded to the computer on the desk.

Tony made a disgusted face. “I paid cash for that thing. Bruce said you used them at SHIELD and it was something to do with your magic. You need to show me how that works.”

“What, the interface? You can watch as I set it up.”

“Magic in general, Loki. It doesn't make any sense to me.”

Loki let a smirk bleed onto his face. “You're assuming you'll understand it even after I explain.”

Tony stared at him and then ran a hand through his hair. “You're assuming I won't. Genius.”

Loki shook his head. “Genius or not, _I_ don't understand how your science works. The vocabulary is one thing, and easily learned. But how you talk about and frame things is completely foreign to me. If I don't understand that, I won't be able to explain in ways you'd understand. There's a reason you call it magic, even though you know it's just a form of Asgardian science.”

“Huh. We'll just have to poke at it, then.”

“I'm not opposed.” He paused and then said quietly, “Why did you decorate this room so differently? You knew what my preferences are; my bedroom is perfect.”

Tony met his eyes. “This isn't Asgard. I didn't want to try to replicate something, and come close enough that it would only hurt you every time you entered. So I went in a different direction. I took a bit of inspiration from your fighting style, oddly enough. Simple, clean, and a bit devious.”

Loki let out a bark of laughter. “Just a bit?”

“Your illusions are something else. We're going to have to learn to work with them, because they are incredibly useful. So I went with simple and clean here. I could fix it, if you want me to.”

Loki shook his head. “I like it. I would never have considered this style, but it suits me.”

“Good. Now, about magic and computers.”

Loki shot him a wry look. “You want to know how vulnerable your systems are.” Tony nodded. “Very. I've bolstered SHIELD's defenses, but with the software you use, it's difficult. Working with your tech will be even harder, because it's one of the most non-intuitive operating systems I found.”

“ _Non-intuitive_ \--”

“Not human. Apples are decent, and even they require modifications.” Loki paused. “Not that I'm telling them that.”

Tony laughed. “You just challenged me, you know.”

“Good. Maybe you'll be able to keep up with me. Tasha mentioned a party?”

“Pizzas from Two Boots, alcohol, just the Avengers and Pepper. We've all moved in, so why not celebrate?”

Loki raised his eyebrows. “We barely know each other.”

“Yeah, that's the other thing. We need to. So, party.”

Loki rolled his eyes. “Show the worst behavior first to get it out of the way. I have no desire to be drunk, Stark. You wouldn't like the results, and I despise hangovers. It would be a rather bad idea to let Banner drink too much as well, and neither Clint nor Natasha trust anyone enough to let down their guard even slightly. So, in effect, it would just be you, and we've all seen enough of your behavior in the news or in person to be unsurprised and unimpressed by it.”

Tony stared at him, mouth open slightly. He shut it with a click and said, “You can be rather cruel, you know that.”

Loki tilted his head in acknowledgment. “I did not mean to be, Tony. Sometimes, you don't seem to realize that people react differently than you expect them to. We aren't the people you've surrounded yourself with in the past. All of us are damaged and we need to adjust, in ways we will not have anticipated. For you, that means no drunken parties. Even near your birthday.”

Tony ran his hands through his hair again. “All right. Drunk is out. Tipsy and talkative… still in the cards.”

Loki laughed. “If we don't all fall asleep first.”

Tony grinned. “You three are the only ones who moved in today. I doubt any of you would fall asleep with people you don't know well watching.”

Loki half-smiled. Tony could be just as much of an ass. “I guess we'll find out.”

Three hours later, after Clint, Natasha, and Loki had unpacked everything and collapsed the boxes for recycling, they went upstairs, only to find Rogers and Tony bickering near a large couch about the number and kind of pizzas to order. Pepper conversed with Banner over by the breakfast bar separating the living space from a gigantic kitchen, and they both smiled when the triad walked out of the elevator. Pepper said, “Any preferences?”

“Everything but anchovies for me,” Natasha said. “Clint likes pepperoni, and Loki likes sausage and pepperoni.”

“Ha!” Tony said, pointing at Rogers. “JARVIS?”

“Are there any preferences for sides?”

“No sides. Pizza and beer are enough.”

“The order is placed, sir, and will be here in half an hour.”

Rogers rolled his eyes and walked over to Banner. Loki strolled over to Tony, who was tapping at his phone. “Any word from the Council?”

Tony shook his head. “Unless you count Fury telling me they backed off. They're watching us, though. I think Fury expected us to scatter for a while longer.”

Banner came over, holding a glass of iced tea. “I can't imagine why. It's not like half of us have anywhere to go.”

Rogers sat down on the couch and looked up at them. “And those of us who did obviously didn't like it very much. I can't imagine you were happy living under such control, Loki.”

Loki shrugged. “It's the price to pay for SHIELD not trusting me.”

“So your… meetings… aren't going well?” Tony said.

“It's difficult to tell. Clint was cleared this morning--”

“And I have a mission starting next Monday. I'll be gone three to five days.”

Rogers frowned. “They didn't inform me.”

“Team leader, Cap, but not his boss. He's still a SHIELD agent,” Tony said, slipping his phone into his pocket. “He and Natasha both will still be in the field. Snipers and spies stay hidden.”

“If you know we're there, things went wrong,” Natasha said, sitting down on the opposite side of the couch. “But Loki has problems of his own, and his evaluation isn't just a checkup. As far as I'm aware, they're still in the information gathering portion, not the making decisions part.”

Tony whistled. “They're taking this a lot more seriously than I thought they would.”

Rogers snapped, “You thought they'd just rush him through? Even with public support, he's still far more dangerous than the rest of us combined. SHIELD needs to have a proper risk analysis done before putting him on the Avengers.” 

Loki gulped, but didn't deny it.

Tony said, “You don't need to keep reminding him. Natasha--”

“I've read everyone's files, Stark. You chose me to be the leader,” Rogers said when he realized everyone was staring at him. “I can't lead if I don't know what your capabilities and weaknesses are.”

“They gave you my files?” Loki said, startled.

Rogers looked steadily at him. “You live here. I needed to know.”

“Right,” Clint said. “Weaknesses?”

Rogers deflated. “All of us have them, and I'm beginning to think we _all_ need therapy, not just Loki.”

“Not going to happen,” Natasha said at the same time Tony said, “You, too?”

“I didn't expect it,” Rogers said to Natasha, and then he turned to Tony. “You think it's easy living seventy years out of your time, when I can't understand the vast majority of anyone's references or accidentally offend someone because customs and vocabulary changed? You think it's easy crashing, knowing you were going to die and then waking up to find almost everyone you cared for dead instead? SHIELD did an absolutely _wonderful_ job preparing me for this world. They taught me the basics, and I left.”

“Yet they still trust you to lead us,” Natasha said.

“It's not the first time I've done something I was completely unprepared for,” Rogers said with a smile.

Loki shifted on his feet. Rogers may not appreciate the offer, but he needed to ask anyway. “I could help with the culture, I think. After you woke up, SHIELD asked me for a list of books I'd found useful…”

“I haven't had time to read all of them yet,” Rogers said, a bit sheepishly.

Loki nodded and went into the kitchen to help Clint and Pepper, who were making a salad. Pepper smiled at him when he walked in. “I don't care what Tony says, we need something aside from pizza. Knives are in the far left drawer, carrots are washed and need to be sliced.”

Loki did as ordered and listened to the continued, mostly good-natured, bickering from the living area. Clint rolled his eyes a few times, and Pepper just sighed when Tony said something outrageous. Still, they eventually wandered into the kitchen as well, and Tony leaned on the breakfast bar. “So, Loki?”

Loki looked up from chopping the cucumbers Clint had just handed him. “Yes?”

“You said most of the myths were inaccurate, but I wondered--”

Loki said in a rather matter-of-fact tone, “If you ask about Sleipnir, I will cut out your tongue.”

Tony held up his hands. “It was just a joke.”

Loki put down his knife and stepped away from it. Rogers looked ready to tackle him, and he had no desire to end up with bruises even though he had-- yet again-- set Rogers against him. “My father's horse is indeed eight-legged and named Sleipnir. However, I had nothing to do with his conception and raising, and I very much dislike being accused of bestiality.”

Rogers raised his eyebrows. “I'd like an explanation, please.”

“I am a shapeshifter, that much is true. A good shapeshifter keeps his or her mind when transformed--”

“And bad ones?” Banner asked.

“There aren't very many bad ones. Forgetting your mind in animal form… You won't leave said form. So, in order to do what the myth said, I would have to _willingly_ copulate with a stallion. Hence, bestiality.”

“So… you aren't a parent at all, then?”

Loki glared at Stark. “I have no children. I'm the second son, and for political reasons, it would have been unwise to sire children before my brother. And that apart from the fact I was not well liked. Now, the point is moot.”

He stalked out of the kitchen, away from the conversation and the people. He'd known Stark was infuriating, but to keep provoking him? Tony had absolutely no self-preservation instinct. Which he had known. A human man fighting in a flying suit of armor… Loki shook his head and spun around when he heard footsteps behind him.

Tony said, “I didn't mean to upset you.”

Loki half-smiled. “You didn't, not really. It's just… People used to mock me about it. I suppose they thought it was funny. I never did.” He dropped the smile. “I owe you an apology. What I said would have been more easily recognized as a joke had I not been holding a knife at the time.”

Rogers said, from halfway across the room, “So it _was_ a joke?”

Loki's mouth twisted into a wry smile. “I like Tony. A warning to drop the subject, but yes, it was.”

Tony nodded. “Okay. So what was Asgard like for you?”

Loki glanced at Natasha, who had her arms folded across her chest. He said, “I'd rather not talk about it now. Not when we're supposed to be relaxing.”

“Movie, then!”

Banner said, “What about _Fellowship of the Ring_?”

“Extended or regular?” Pepper asked. “Tony has both.”

“Extended,” Loki, Tony, and Clint said in unison.

The pizzas arrived just before Bilbo's birthday party started.

* * * * *

Loki sat down at the conference table across from the two men-- one psychiatrist, one agent-- who had been evaluating him for the past four weeks. Both of them had on their usual black suits and stern expressions, with laptops open in front of them. The only difference this afternoon-- apart from being on the helicarrier so Fury wouldn’t have to take a helicopter to and from New York solely for a short meeting-- was instead of multiple file folders scattered in front of them, there was only one, set in front of the seat at the head of the table.

“Gentlemen,” Fury said when he walked in. Loki twisted his head and nodded in acknowledgment. Hopefully-- given the machinations that went into organizing this meeting-- they'd come to a decision. Fury sat down at the head of the table and gestured to the psychiatrist.

He said, “Mr. Odinson, we have come to a consensus. After extensively interviewing you and everyone you know here, we have determined that you are stable enough for field work. However, SHIELD is not willing to place you in the field as an agent. You are not psychologically suited for the position or for the training, and we note that you did not apply for it. That said, placement in the Avengers suits you.”

Loki let out a breath of relief. “So I'm on the team?”

Fury leaned forward. “There are conditions, Loki.”

“I suspected there would be.”

Fury said, “Your placement is similar to Romanoff and Barton's-- you will continue with your regular work and are tasked to the Initiative as necessary. Practically speaking, little will change even if you _don't_ accept the conditions. You're still employed by us.”

“The conditions?”

The psychiatrist said, “Continuation of your therapy with Doctor McCormack--”

“I'd do that anyway.”

Loki shut his mouth when Fury glared at him and let the psychiatrist continue. “Therapy with Doctor McCormack, a monthly meeting with a psychiatrist with the possibility of weekly if he or she suggests, and Captain Rogers receives the same reports Director Fury does.”

Loki raised his eyebrows. “Acceptable, but I am curious about the last.”

Fury rubbed his temples. “Rogers does not fully trust you. As team leader, he has the capability of removing you from duty if he feels it necessary. He wants to ensure that he knows your mental state in order to not make a rash judgement and to prevent undue stress on you.”

“The reports are the weekly ones from McCormack and I am guessing the psychiatrist?” Fury nodded. “I'm fine with that.”

“Are you sure?”

Loki refrained from rolling his eyes. “ _Yes_.”

Fury slid over the file folder and a pen. “Read, sign, and give it to Coulson by lunchtime. He'll make sure HR files it correctly.”

Loki smiled and flipped it open, ignoring everyone else filing out of the room.

An hour later, he knocked on Coulson's open office door and shut the door behind him. Coulson looked up from the paperwork scattered across his desk. “More?”

“New contract.”

Coulson smiled and held out his hand for the folder. Loki gave it to him and sat down. “How are you?”

“I received medical clearance to go on the range,” Coulson said, flipping it open. “Are you sure you want Steve to read those reports?”

“It's about time!” Loki shrugged. “ I don't have much of a choice. I'll work with him, but we avoid each other at the tower. I'm not allowed on his floor, and he tends to stay out of my library. Pretty much the only time we're in the same room for any length of time is at breakfast, during movies, or if someone makes a group dinner.”

“He's a good man. Give him a chance.”

Loki smirked. “He's the _only_ good man. It's why he has problems with me. Did he sign your cards yet?”

“Three days ago.”

Loki picked up a glass paperweight and tossed it from hand to hand. “Tony mentioned something about having you move in when you’re cleared to leave the helicarrier.”

Coulson stared at Loki. “Put the paperweight down. You can tell Stark that I may be the Avengers' handler, but I am not your babysitter. I have a personal life that I would very much prefer to keep separate from work.”

“So you won't?”

“No. Not even if Fury orders it.”

“You'll miss seeing Rogers wandering around…”

Coulson snorted and pointed to the door. “Out, Loki. I _know_ you have better things to do than pester me.”

Loki smirked. “Not really.”

Coulson just looked at him and Loki teleported into SHIELD New York’s lobby. And almost ran into Rogers when the elevator doors opened on the floor his lab was on. “Fury said you were back. We need to talk.”

“Of course, Captain. Where?”

“Your lab would be best. I don't have an office here.” When they reached it, Rogers closed the door behind them and leaned against the nearest workbench. “This is neater than I imagined.”

Loki snickered and sat down in his chair. “Unlike Tony, I work better with organization.” He raised an eyebrow. “What do you need, Captain?”

Rogers half-smiled. “Now that you're properly on the team, we have strategies to work on.”

Loki bit back a retort about it being a waste of time, but it wasn't. Not with two months to go and the high probability the Avengers would be called into the field before then. SHIELD had already picked up and begun monitoring three possibilities for homegrown attacks. “What do you need to know?”

“Is there any way to mark solely to us and any SHIELD agents nearby which are illusions and which is yourself?”

Loki leaned back in his chair. “A tracker placed on my armor could be hacked, though maybe if Tony made it? Magic-wise, it would take more energy than usual, and any physical differences would be noticed. Let me think about it.”

“You used illusions on Asgard.”

“My brother and his friends learned to compensate. I can say that until we come up with a better solution, I'll try to make it clear where I am over the comms.”

“That's all I can ask for. Now, you use knives, and you and Tony are working on turning the Chitauri staff into some sort of pole weapon?”

Loki laced his hands in his lap. “Back into a working energy weapon, using magic as the power source. It already functions well as a pole arm.”

“So those are your primary weapons. What about guns?”

Loki shook his head. “Clint and Natasha snuck me into SHIELD's firing range a few times, so I can use them. I dislike them, though, and I think SHIELD would have a fit if I used them regularly. Magic is my long-distance weapon.”

“You have a tendency to disobey orders.”

“Who on the team doesn't?” Loki paused. He needed to give Rogers a hint that he'd cooperate. “However, you're a better tactician than I am. My plans tended to be along the lines of protecting Thor from his idiocy. They usually didn't work, or had unanticipated consequences if they did.”

“What about strategy?”

“In theory and as an intellectual exercise, I enjoy it. In practise, I am too easily frustrated. Captain, you must remember that while I have extensive battle experience, I rarely led anything. My brother was always in charge, and he tended to ignore my input. I was rarely respected as a warrior, so I learned not to say anything until there was no choice but for him to listen to me.”

Rogers frowned. “But you're smart--”

“Different cultures, different values. I prefer Earth for a reason, Captain.”

“Why do you do that? You call everyone else by their given name.”

“You have made it quite plain that you want little to do with me. I will not presume familiarity where there is none.” Rogers had the audacity to look surprised and Loki sighed. “It is simply polite.”

“Right. Is there anything else I need to be aware of-- mentally or physically?”

Loki tilted his head to the side, considering. “I don't like being brushed aside simply because what I suggest doesn't fit the norm. There's a difference between how you treat me and what I'm talking about. You don't brush aside my feelings, or make jokes at my expense. I admit to causing mischief, but I haven't needed to do it in revenge or for attention here. Or as the only way to make people understand what they believe or see isn't the truth.” He waved a hand. “I'm getting off topic. You are wary and avoid me for good reason, and I won't attempt to change your mind. I respect that and respect you for following your moral code. But I--”

“You don't like being ignored.”

“Exactly.”

Rogers nodded. “No matter what happens, Loki, I guarantee I won't do that in the types of situations we'll find ourselves in. If you have concerns, I will listen to them. Now, unless there's something else--” Loki shook his head “--that should be all for now.”

Rogers excused himself and left Loki's lab. Loki briefly stared at his main computer before following him. He wandered SHIELD for a few minutes, wondering if he should get some work done, before finally leaving for the tower. It was difficult, walking the streets. Partly because debris and construction equipment was still a problem, but also because he used an “ignore me” spell so people wouldn't harass him for autographs and pictures if they recognized him. Still, it was easier than being inside, enclosed, _trapped_.

It wasn't often he felt that way, but between signing the new contract and talking to Rogers, he couldn't sit still in his lab. He needed to move, to wander, to think. And to plan for the future, however short it was going to be.

* * * * *

Two weeks after Loki's SHIELD-official appointment to the team, Tony and he had finally completed Loki's version of the Chitauri staff. Loki grinned at the engineer and immediately went to the range to test it more extensively. Tony didn't follow him; he had a meeting to get ready for and he wasn't in the mood to annoy Pepper.

Loki leaned on the staff and studied the targets. They were still set up from Rogers' shooting practise that morning, and he wasn't sure if he needed to change it. Most were close range, and that should test the accuracy as well as the energy conversion pack.

He shifted his grip on it, pointing the muzzle downrange, and was just about to tell JARVIS “hot range” when the door opened and Clint walked in. Loki immediately returned the staff to its upright position. “Shooting or looking for me?”

“Shooting,” he said, eyeing the staff warily. But he kept walking, to the station next to Loki's, pulled his pistol out of its holster, and set it on the table. “First time with that?”

Loki smiled. “Seeing how it works.” He shifted, because Clint still wasn't looking at him. “Do you want me to leave?”

Clint put his ammo box on the table in front of him and finally met Loki's eyes. “I can't say I'm thrilled. But McCormack said I need to get used to it.”

Loki raised his eyebrows. “Getting used to it while handling a gun… Not the safest thing.”

Clint chuckled. “Now you sound like Natasha.” He rubbed his face. “But you're right.” He waved at the targets. “You were here first; I don't have anything to do for the rest of the afternoon. I can wait.”

Loki studied Clint's face and body language. “All right.”

Clint stepped backward, out of Loki's peripheral vision, but he heard the man lean against the wall. Loki raised the staff and began firing it, blasting apart the nearest three targets in quick succession with balls of fast-moving green energy. So the conversion was working properly. Until the fifth time, when Loki heard something click, and then jam. “Damn.”

Clint chuckled, more than a bit hollowly, and stepped forward. “Not working anymore?”

Loki shook his head, dissipated the energy, and folded the staff back into thirds. “The conversion box worked, but something else broke.”

“You'll figure it out. Or Stark will.”

Loki smiled and kissed Clint on the temple. “Come and talk to me when you're done? I'll be in my workroom.”

Clint nodded and when Loki closed the range door behind him, the red light next to the door came on. Loki went to drop the staff off in Tony's lab.

* * * * *

The elevator opened onto Tony leaning into Pepper and saying, “I have trouble believing that an idiot would attack us. I don't know what she was thinking! Sending a bunch of insults to robotics after us less than two months after we fought off an alien invasion…”

Pepper shook her head, and turned to smile at Clint and Loki. “There's Indian food on the way. It should be here shortly. Where's Natasha?”

“Trying to get grease out of her hair,” Clint said, wandering into the kitchen while Loki took his usual seat at the foot of the table. “She'll be up shortly.”

Loki rested his arms on the wooden tabletop, half-tempted to rest his head on them and sleep. “Because people are idiots. It doesn't matter what Realm one is in.” 

Tony pulled away from Pepper and sat down next to Loki. “Can you create an anti-magic barrier for my armor?”

Loki blinked at the change in subject matter. “It won't be total. If it was, I couldn't work my own magic on you-- to catch you, for instance, if your repulsers fail, or to knock you out of the way of something?”

Pepper grimaced. “That would be a good thing… But a total barrier would be better. Would you be able to tune it specifically to ignore your magic and block everyone else's?”

“It will take more time, but it is possible,” Loki said slowly. “But I'm not sure we have it.”

Clint knocked Loki in the back of the head as he walked by with a beer can in his other hand. “My question: why offer to make a half-assed system operating under the assumption you're going to be here to help Tony? You've convinced yourself you'll receive the worst-case scenario, but it might not happen. There's a part of you that recognizes that.”

Loki clenched his jaw. “There is no reason to suspect that I will walk away.”

“But you hope,” Tony said.

“Of course I hope, Stark! Who wouldn't? But I try my best to ignore it, and my best is pretty damn good. I know the realities, and there is no use to hope. _None_.” Loki buried his face in his hands and tried to take deep breaths to calm down. There was just over a month to go. There was absolutely no reason for him to take out his fear on his friends. None. He had to learn to control himself. When he felt calm enough to talk again, Loki put his hands back on the table and looked at Tony. Tony only smiled a little, but said nothing. Loki was grateful for that, and for Tony's understanding without needing things to be spelled out for him. Loki said, rather than apologizing, “Do you want the repellant as part of the outer shell or an inner layer?”

* * * * *

Natasha knocked on the door, and Loki paused, pen in midair. “What is it?”

“Steve said dinner is ready.”

Loki looked down at the letter he just had to sign. “I'll be there in a minute.”

“We'll wait.”

Loki heard her bare feet pad down the hall, and he stared at the letter. At both of them-- one for Natasha and one for Clint. He signed Natasha's and put down the pen. It rolled a little across the desk before it came to a stop. Loki folded the letters, put them in the envelopes he'd already prepared, and dropped them onto the desk. They would find them after.

Loki left his bedroom and met his partners at the elevator. Bruce and Rogers had prepared foods Loki preferred, and while he appreciated the effort, he could barely eat. Though Tony tried to talk about nothing in particular, it was a mostly silent meal. No one wanted to talk about what would happen tomorrow, and Loki had said individually what he wanted to. There was little left to say save to Clint and Natasha.

He did wait on the common floor until the leftovers were put away and the cleanup done. It was hard, sitting at the table, watching people he'd come to call friends go about the business of living. When they'd gathered, Tony and Bruce hovering in the archway to the kitchen, Loki stood up and walked to the elevator. He looked at his team and said quietly, “Thank you. Just… thank you.”

Natasha and Clint followed him into the elevator. It wasn't until they were ensconced on their sofa in front of the fireplace, Loki cuddled in the middle, that Natasha asked something no one had previously dared to save only vaguely and generally because of Earth-side security concerns, “What do you think will happen?”

Loki swallowed. “Guards, probably led by Thor, will arrive via the Tesseract. I doubt the Bifrost is repaired yet, and using it here would draw too much attention. I will be arrested and escorted back to Asgard, where I will hear my sentence pronounced by the All-father in his throne room. The sentence will be carried out within the hour. My body will be burned and the ashes placed without ceremony in the criminals' burial yard. My tombstone will simply have my name and a list of my crimes. That has likely already been prepared. Within a day, it will be as if I had never returned, and the House of Odin can forget about me. No songs will be sung of me save to brand me as what I am. I will not be celebrated or publicly mourned.”

Clint said, “Is imprisonment not an option?”

Loki laughed bitterly. “Keeping an immortal imprisoned for life, especially a sorcerer, is no easy task. Even with the magic-blocking cell and the restraints-- and I would be in both-- there will always be conspiracies and plans to free me for various reasons floating about, as well as the cost of simply feeding and housing me. Better to bring a final end to my misdeeds and ensure I cannot escape.” Loki leaned back, resting his head on the back of the couch. “I know both of you wish there was another way, and I do as well, but I have accepted that I am going to die tomorrow. I will not pretend otherwise.” He paused, swallowing yet again past the lump in his throat. “But I'd like to talk about something, _anything_ , else. I can't dwell on it.”

“All right,” Natasha said, shifting her hand so it rested further up his thigh. “I can think of other things.”

Clint said, with a small smile, “So can I.”

Their lovemaking that night was slow, and gentle, and everything Loki would miss. It brought him to tears on occasion, and his partners didn't care. They just wiped them away, with kisses or callused fingers. And eventually, they slept.

Until the assembly alarm blared.

Clint rolled over and looked at the clock on the nightstand. “Five more minutes. They couldn't have waited five minutes until the alarm clock went off.”

Natasha hit him in the head with her pillow, but all three of them were already untangling themselves from the sheets. Loki mumbled when he walked into the hallway, “JARVIS, what's wrong?”

The alarm cut off, as it was programmed to do when they acknowledged it, and he said, “There is some sort of fire creature rampaging in downtown Cincinnati.”

They reached the quinjet ten minutes later.

* * * * *

The tower was quiet, save for Tony organizing bottles at the bar behind Loki. Clint, Natasha, and Rogers were at SHIELD discussing the continued fallout from the mission three days ago. Bruce was giving a guest lecture at New York University. Pepper was working. Tony was taking a break from whatever he was doing in his workshop, and generally leaving Loki alone. And Loki… Loki had nothing to do.

Not that he minded, with the ax hanging over his head. He’d finished both SHIELD’s and Tony’s computer defenses, as well as the partial magic-repellant layer for Tony’s armor. He’d helped calm the more urgent fears of a world exposed to alien life. He’d done everything he said he would, and he was content with that.

Loki looked out the window at the cityscape. It was soothing, in a way. Even though New York was nothing like Asgard, there was something about cities he loved. And then a flash of blue light coalescing on Tony’s landing platform drew his eye.

Loki clutched the coffee mug tighter. Even though he’d expected this, he still didn’t want it to happen. His breathing hitched and he had to force himself to breathe evenly so he wouldn’t hyperventilate. As usual, Tony paid closer attention than most people thought, and he said, “Loki? What’s wrong?” just as JARVIS said, “Sir, there are intruders--”

“Cancel the alarm, JARVIS,” Loki said. “It’s Thor and two guards.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Tony said as the Asgardians began walking, Thor holding the metal and glass contraption containing the Tesseract. “I thought--”

Loki turned to him, an eyebrow raised. “That the All-father would forget?” Loki drained his coffee and set the empty mug on Tony’s desk. Tony met him in front of the bar. Neither one looked at the glass door Thor stood on the other side of. “ Please tell Clint and Natasha there are letters for them on the desk in my bedroom,” Loki said. “Tony Stark, I thank you for your hospitality.”

He didn’t wait to see Tony’s expression, but immediately climbed the stairs leading to the platform, changing into his armor as he did so. JARVIS slid the door open and Loki met Thor’s eyes. “I’m ready.”

He held his arms out and the senior guard clapped restraints around Loki’s wrists. Loki flinched when his magic snapped behind a barrier, but he’d expected it. For him to have his magic would be an affront to justice, and nor did he let his thoughts show on his face when the guard then frisked him, searching for weapons, though he carried none. Thor stood still, holding the Tesseract’s container-- which was likely the only reason he was even here, as the All-father would be smart enough to not let more people than necessary handle it and certainly not mere guards-- and staring at him. Only when the guards stepped away did Thor say, “I’m sorry.”

Loki let a ghost of a smile show. “So am I.” He gestured at the Tesseract. “Shall we?”

Thor grimaced, but led the way down the platform, Loki behind him followed by the guards. Once at the end, Thor lifted the container and the guards grabbed the other handle. Loki grasped the cool metal next to Thor’s hand. With a quick twisting of said handle, the Tesseract flared.

Traveling by it felt not dissimilar to the Bifrost, though far more wild. The Tesseract was controlled, not tamed. But like the Bifrost, the journey took seconds.

They landed in the palace’s main courtyard. Loki ignored the stares and whispers that broke out, and released the handle as he tilted his head up to look at the star-spangled sky, grateful to see it one last time. He’d never grown used to the blandness of Earth’s sky. He took a deep breath, lowered his head, and nodded to Thor. It was time.

The march through the golden halls was silent. People-- servants and government employees alike-- lined the halls. Loki kept his gaze on Thor’s rippling cloak, ignoring the people in his peripheral vision and the watchful stare of the two guards behind him. When they reached the throne room-- the main entrance, of course-- the guards fell back two paces, leaving the focus on the princes. Loki briefly closed his eyes and followed his brother up the aisle.

He had expected to be paraded like this, the uncommon criminal. The throne room was even more crowded than the hallways, though not as full as Thor’s botched coronation. This was a mockery of that day. But the All-father would not hide Loki’s crimes, could not punish his wayward son in private.

His crimes were too severe.

The guards stopped at the bottom of the stairs leading to the more intimate setting near the throne itself. The stairs themselves were crowded with members of the upper nobility. He didn’t bother to look for his once-friends. He knew they’d be there. He was far more concerned with Mother, who stood near the throne, and who-- out of everyone there-- was the only person who didn’t wear a face of satisfaction and hate. (No, he couldn’t be sure everyone wore one; he’d been deliberately not looking. But he could guess.) He couldn’t see the All-father through the bulk of Thor’s body. But when Thor reached the steps leading to the raised platform where the throne rested, he stepped to the side, out of Loki’s reach.

Loki swallowed, moved the last two steps forward, and sank to his knees on the hard, cold stone floor. Only then did he meet the All-father’s eye. He said quietly, knowing the spells on the room would carry his voice to everyone present, “I submit myself to your judgement, All-father.”

Though he had already been judged. What remained was the formal sentencing.

Odin didn’t move from his seat, though his grip on Gungnir shifted. “Loki Odinson, you have been judged for your numerous crimes and found guilty.” Loki didn’t flinch, though his lips thinned. He’d hoped, after all. “You are hereby sentenced to exile on Midgard, with restrictions on your magic, to return on pain of death. You will be immediately returned to Midgard, whereupon you will receive said restrictions.”

Loki inhaled, hardly daring to breathe and certainly not letting any expression of joy or confusion cross his face. He wouldn’t be executed? But restrictions on his magic would limit his use to the Avengers. But that may be the reason they existed.

Odin continued, “Your belongings have been sold to provide weregild for the Jotunn.” Which, given his punishment, was not unexpected. “You remain an Odinson, a prince, and a citizen of Asgard.” So the Realms would know not to attack him on pain of his family’s wrath. So the humans would continue to take him seriously. So he would have no choice but to follow the All-father’s edict. 

Loki bowed his head deeply in acknowledgment and he heard Odin thump Gungnir on the floor, sending a ringing tone through the throne room-- signaling the end of the formal ceremony-- stand, and walk down the steps. He only looked up when the All-father paused between him and Thor, and stood when Odin moved down the aisle, now holding the Tesseract’s container. Thor fell into step behind Loki, and Mother followed.

The walk out to the courtyard was just as silent. Once in the courtyard’s center, Odin stopped and turned to look at Loki. Thor clasped a hand on Loki’s shoulder and stood a pace away on Loki’s right. Mother brushed a hand down Loki’s left arm and stood opposite Thor. The grieving expression on her face nearly broke Loki’s resolve to let as few emotions cross his face as possible. But the watching crowd cautioned him against it, and the All-father held out the container. Loki took the free handle.

The ride to Earth was no different than the ride to Asgard.

They landed on the same location Loki had departed from. The only difference was that this truly was a return for good. Loki dropped the handle, saluted the All-father, and waited for Odin to cast a spell restricting his magic. Instead, he merely raised his eyebrow. “The restrictions on your magic are specific, and better you be comfortable for their placement.”

Loki jerkily nodded his head and led Odin indoors, past a silently gaping Tony sitting at the bar. (Though by the looks of the bottle, he’d only had one drink, apparently waiting for everyone else to arrive.) The two of them took to the elevator to Loki’s library. There was no point in antagonizing Odin with his son’s blatant disregard of Asgardian sexual morals. Once Loki stepped out of the elevator, he said, “JARVIS, enable privacy mode.”

“Privacy mode enabled.”

Loki reflexively thanked the AI, even though he knew JARVIS wouldn’t hear, and led the All-father to the couches in the center of the room. Odin sat on the left-hand couch, after he stood Gungnir next to the end table. He put the Tesseract’s container at his feet. Once Loki sat, Odin said, “I have more reasons to talk to you than the conclusion of your sentence.”

Loki raised his eyebrows. “Why? What is there of use? I will never return to Asgard; it is unlikely you will see me again--”

“We mourned you, Loki.”

Loki snorted, but held back his immediate comments. It wouldn’t do to be sarcastic or biting now, when he didn’t know what the restrictions entailed. “Why? I am a kinslayer, a--”

“You are a son and a brother. That was reason enough.” Odin sighed. “The Tesseract gave us the opportunity to begin repairing the damage you wrought. The Bifrost repairs will be complete within two years. The Tesseract itself let us open treaty negotiations with Jotunnheim.” Odin’s face grew more serious. “The Jotunn know you live, and they know who damaged their world.”

“How many died?” Loki whispered, clenching his hands.

“Over ten thousand. Mostly warriors, as it happened, gathered for war, though there are many civilian casualties among your victims. The old capital is completely destroyed, as is the countryside for miles around.”

“The new king demanded my death.” Odin nodded. “Then why am I merely exiled?”

“I explained to him, as much as possible without revealing your heritage, the reasons you attempted to destroy Jotunnheim, not the least of which was your madness. I explained the small part of my guilt in not teaching you to see the Jotunn as even having the right to live. I offered weregild. He accepted, with two further conditions. I thought them reasonable and agreed.”

“What are they?” Though he could guess one.

“That I return the Casket of Ancient Winters--”

“You cannot trust them! The Jotunn will turn on you.”

“I am willing to take that risk,” Odin said severely. “But it will let them rebuild and thrive, and it is the only way for Asgard to repair the damage you caused. It may be the way to permanent peace. It is also a symbol of trust-- and a defense against you.”

Loki nodded. “The second?”

Odin smiled. “Your exile, which I had already planned. Though the Jotunn king demanded both the length and the restrictions on your magic.”

Loki closed his eyes, not wanting to hear the answer to his next questions. “For how long?”

Odin didn’t speak for a long moment. “Until Midgard is unfit for human habitation.”

Loki opened his eyes, fighting back tears. “I can’t go home?”

Odin-- _Father_ \-- shook his head and placed a hand on Loki’s knee. “I am sorry, Loki, I truly am. But--”

“My crimes deserve my death. Permanent exile is the next best option.”

Father sighed. “Even if it wasn’t permanent, you have very little to return to, Loki. You were removed from the line of succession and relieved of all responsibilities the day after you informed us of your survival. Also, I meant it literally when I said your possessions were sold, save for your most precious belongings. Even that was not enough to provide all the weregild, and the rest came from the treasury, as will the remainder of your weregild to Puente Antiguo. Your remaining possessions-- consisting mostly of sentimental things-- will be sent to you once the Bifrost is repaired. Your most dangerous spellbooks are locked and will remain in the secure archive.”

Loki nodded. It hurt to have everything laid out in front of him. But he still didn’t know one thing. “What are the restrictions?”

The All-father met his eyes. “I will remove the knowledge of how to worldwalk and how to teleport from your memory. If you accidentally relearn these things, I will not further punish you, but I will return to remove them once again. If you purposefully-- even your accidentally-on-purpose that you are so skilled at-- seek out that knowledge, I will remove your magic.”

The hair on the back of Loki’s neck rose. To have his memory altered… But he knew that if he refused, all of his magic would be taken. This way, he could still be of use to his team. “I understand, All-father.” Permanently exiled to one planet, without the ability to travel freely-- Loki hadn’t dreamed of it. In its own way, execution would have been a relief. Stuck on Earth, where magic was not taken seriously, with mortals… Loki shook the thought from his head. He couldn’t afford to dwell on the future, especially not one decades and centuries away. “Why the mercy?”

Father’s gaze didn’t waver. “Because I failed you once, and I would try not to a second time. If you fall into darkness again, Loki, there will be no mercy. I know how severe a punishment this is for you, and so do the Jotunn. They _will_ watch you.”

“Good.” Loki hesitated. “Father… Why…” Loki shook his head. He couldn’t even put into words what he wanted to say.

Father placed a hand on Loki’s cheek. “Because I would not leave an infant to die when I knew he could survive on another world. Jotunnheim was not for you, and I suspect neither was Asgard. In the past three months, I have seen you truly happy in a way I had not seen in centuries. I raised you as my son because I love you and for no other reason. I knew within months my half-formed plans were just dreams. I did not tell you the truth because of how Asgard regards Jotunnheim, and the implications thereof. I should have informed you when you were old enough to understand why you had to hide, and I regret that I did not. In all the ways that matter, you are my son. You always will be.”

So Loki’s retaining “Odinson” was more than political. It was personal, and he didn’t quite know how he felt about that. But he nodded and Father let his hand drop. “I was unable to speak to Mother and Thor. How are they?”

Father smiled. “They miss you. I do not trust the Tesseract enough to allow its use for nonpolitical reasons, so them seeing you-- or Thor Jane-- must wait until the Bifrost is repaired.”

Loki blinked, and then laughed. “There is nothing in the treaty that prevents Asgardians from visiting me.”

“Though it cannot be often, for political reasons.”

Loki nodded, having expected no less, and said, “You distrust the Tesseract because of the Chitauri.”

“We take them seriously and cannot risk them attacking another Realm.” He paused, the smile returning to his face. “I _am_ proud of you, Loki. Few could have fought off an invasion like that. And I would never have expected you to find a team of humans to battle alongside of.”

Loki let a wry half-smile onto his face. “Even though two of them are more than that?”

Father nodded. “This is Midgard, not Asgard. How you conduct your relationships here is none of my business.”

Loki’s smile turned into a grimace. “This is not the first multiple-partner relationship I’ve been in, Father.”

“I suspected not.”

The tone in his voice told Loki to not press the issue. “When will you remove the memories?”

Odin sighed. “Now. It will be uncomfortable, though it won’t be painful. You won’t even notice the loss unless you try to remember.”

“Will I lose memories of actually worldwalking?”

Odin shook his head. “Only the knowledge of how. To do otherwise would be actively harmful. This way, you remember why you lost it. Are you ready?”

Loki gulped, wishing he had something strong to drink. “Yes.”

Odin removed the chains, set them on the coffee table, and shifted to better face Loki. He reached out, put one hand on the nape of Loki’s neck, and the other wrapped around his forehead, thumb and middle finger on Loki’s temples. “Think about worldwalking. It will be easier on both of us if I have a trail to follow.”

Loki did so, and Odin entered his mind. And then he followed the trail, leaping from memory to memory. It felt… odd, like brushing his hand against still water. Loki wasn’t actively recalling anything now, a passive participant in the process. Then Odin stopped-- and there was suddenly a blank. He could recall going to the palace library but the next thing he remembered was being back in his chambers. It happened more than a dozen times, and Loki was suddenly glad of Father’s hand on his neck. It kept him calm enough to not panic and jerk away.

And then it was over.

Father removed his hand from Loki’s forehead, looked steadily at him, and kept his hand on his neck until Loki controlled his breathing. “Don’t poke at the holes,” Father said. “It won’t help.”

Loki laughed silently, shoulders shaking. “I don’t think I’ll be able to help it, at least for the next while. They feel strange.”

“You’ll get used to it in time.”

“I know.”

Father stood up, so Loki did as well. “I must leave now, Loki. Rest assured that I will watch you and contact you if I need to, or if you need me to.”

Loki wasn’t entirely sure that was meant as reassurance or not. But the All-father wasn’t the only person on Asgard who watched. “Heimdall?”

“Always watches. He no longer trusts you.”

With good reason, so Loki wouldn’t complain. “Please tell Mother and Thor that I wish we could have reunited under better circumstances.”

“I will.” Father picked up the chains, his spear, and the Tesseract’s container, and they walked to the elevator. The ride to the common floor was more comfortable, but still silent. When the door opened, Loki stared out in shock. Clint and Natasha were barely five feet away, both wearing the scarily focused expressions that Loki only saw in the field, and Clint had his arms crossed. Tony leaned against the couch, one arm wrapped around Pepper. Bruce stood by the window in the suit he used when making non-Avengers related appearances. Rogers stood at the far side of the room with a contemplative expression on his face.

Father simply nodded at everyone and walked to the stairs leading to Tony’s landing pad. Loki followed him to the top, where Father turned around. Loki leaned down a little so Father could kiss his forehead-- in benediction or farewell, Loki wasn’t sure and didn’t care. Loki remained there until the Tesseract’s blue glow faded from the end of the landing pad.

When Loki reached the bottom of the steps, Clint said, “What the hell was that? Tony called us, said Thor took you, and then half an hour later you’re back, not dead, and you spend another half hour cloistered with Odin in your library!”

Loki smiled, moving his arms away from his sides slightly in invitation. Natasha took him up on it, walking over and putting an arm around his waist. He leaned slightly into her. Clint didn’t, though he did move closer, and was careful not to block anyone’s sight. Loki explained then, and by the end of it, the three of them were bunched on a couch, everyone else scattered in various seats around them. Rogers had surprisingly relaxed, and Bruce had a small smile on his face. Tony said, “So… shawarma, then?” and Pepper rolled her eyes.

Loki leaned further into Clint. “Shawarma’s fine, if they deliver.” He looked around the room, at his team, at the two people who were just as much of his family as Odin, Frigga, and Thor. “I’d rather not leave the tower tonight.”

* * * * *

The next morning, Loki walked into SHIELD and went straight to Fury's office, as he hadn’t yet returned to the helicarrier. He knocked on the door and didn't wait to be told to enter. Fury stared at him and said, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Loki said, “That's what I need to talk to you and Coulson about.”

Loki sat down and silently waited the few minutes until Coulson arrived. First things first. “I hadn't expected this, Phil. I don't know how to make it up to you, that I hurt you by--”

“Don't. I'd rather much believe that I would have to mourn a friend and not have it happen than the opposite.”

Loki looked at Fury. “It's permanent exile, and I can no longer teleport. We need to spin it as much as possible, so when the truth comes out, we can be shown to be as truthful as possible while still protecting my safety in an uncertain time.”

Fury leaned forward. “How much truth will leak? And when will that happen?”

Loki said, “I don't know. The Avengers know everything. McCormack will know. You two. I won't tell anyone else the full truth.” He grimaced. “What I meant by that was the first friendly contact with non-Asgardians. Or even Asgardians. Armies can't just travel to Earth on a whim; you saw the effort it took and the sort of supplies required. But the Bifrost will be repaired shortly, and I would be extremely surprised if some sort of diplomacy didn't occur.” He paused, thinking. “There is also the matter of Doctor Foster's attempt to build a bridge. Asgard and Heimdall will ensure that it first opens onto Asgard. But when such visits become commonplace, when ties between our Realms grow stronger… We will no longer be able to control who learns what.”

“When do you anticipate that happening?” Fury said.

Loki shrugged. “Two years for the Bifrost, longer for Doctor Foster. I _cannot_ be involved in any way with her project, or anything similar. For civilians learning the truth, I am unable to say. There isn't enough information.”

“So we have time to prepare,” Coulson said. “Loki, what truths will we tell if we need to?”

“Political exile, that I was not a good regent and shouldn't be anywhere near political power.”

Coulson said, “I think the PR people would prefer that we not mention any of this until we have to. After all, we hadn't announced your departure to anyone.”

Fury leaned forward, folding his hands on his desktop. “Loki. Other worlds possibly visiting. We have the brief reports you gave us when you arrived. We need more information now.”

Loki nodded. “I'm still a citizen of Asgard, Director. As long as it doesn't impact that Realm's safety, I'm willing to tell you everything I can.” Loki sighed. “Though I have a feeling that won't be fun.”

Fury shook his head, eye gleaming with somewhat malicious humor. “Not unless you count debriefing for days on end fun.”

Loki hung his head in mock despair. “At first, I'll focus on the most likely outcomes of various contact scenarios, and the most likely threats. After that, it'll be culture and history.”

“That would be acceptable,” Coulson said. “Is that all?”

Loki nodded. “I think so.”

Fury said, “Is there anyone else you need to talk to before getting to work on the threats?”

“Doctor McCormack. I'm still in therapy, remember? My new duties won't change that.”

Fury smiled. “No, they won't.” He glanced at one of his computer screens. “I have a meeting in three minutes. Go to McCormack, and someone will tell you where to go at ten.”

Loki nodded and followed Coulson out of the room. Coulson briefly touched his arm. “Meet me for lunch?”

Loki smiled. “Of course.”

He made his way to McCormack's office and knocked on the door. He waited until she said, “Come in!” before entering. He shot her a shy smile and shut the door behind him. She stared at him before grinning. “Loki! I--”

“Exile, not death. It's a bit more complicated than that, but I'm still here.” McCormack nodded and he told her the details. “Right now, I'm still in shock. Because while it looks on the surface that I received what I wanted-- my life and my team-- the long-term consequences-- stuck on a mortal planet, with mortal lovers even if Natasha will live far longer than normal, where I’ll be ostracized when the truth about why I’m here comes out, never seeing Asgard again, never traveling at speeds I’m used to, not being able to teleport in battle, and more besides-- don’t bear thinking about right now. I’m trying to focus on being happy I’m alive.”

“Do you still think you don't deserve it?”

“Yes.” Loki gestured absently around the room. “It was mercy, not justice. I _should_ have been executed.”

“But you said the Jotunn had a counteroffer available when Odin refused.”

Loki tilted his head. “I don't actually know that. It sounds reasonable, but to create a lasting peace, there would be more than one negotiating session. It may have been a sticking point until a compromise was reached. I can't exactly ask anyone what really happened.”

“The point is, they were willing to let you live.”

“Imprisoned on a planet that the other Realms think of as primitive at best. Most people would prefer to be executed.”

“Odin seems to like Earth.”

“He has a soft spot for it.” Loki smiled. “Until I landed here, I didn't understand why. I could see why Thor was banished to Midgard-- no one knew him, and those who met him shouldn't have believed him.” Loki sighed. “He just happened to run into the one person who would.

“The other Realms currently underestimate Earth. When news of the Chitauri invasion spreads, that will change. Whether it will open trade routes or other places will try a contest of arms, I don't know.”

“You need to tell the director this.”

“I have. Explaining those things will take up my foreseeable future at SHIELD.”

She smiled. “Do you think that's all you'll be doing?”

Loki shook his head. “I'm the only sorcerer SHIELD employs. They still need me for that. I think I'll spend my mornings with you and in my lab, and the afternoons with Intelligence.”

McCormack nodded. “That sounds reasonable.” She leaned back in her chair. “Do you feel capable of having an actual session today, or would you prefer to leave it at this?”

Loki raised his eyebrows and chuckled. “Honestly, my thoughts are whirling so fast I can barely think straight. This has changed… everything.”

“Then take the next hour or so to collect them before you're interrogated to high heaven.”

“Thank you.” Loki shot a smile at her and went to his lab.

* * * * *

That evening, Loki spent curled up on the couch next to Natasha. Clint lay stretched out, his head on Natasha’s lap. “I don't know what I'm supposed to do now,” Loki whispered.

Natasha let soft smile come onto her face. “Whatever you want. The things you stopped yourself from doing because you felt you didn't have the time. Explore the city, find a hobby that isn't reading.”

Loki gave her a disgruntled expression. “There's nothing wrong with reading.” He sighed. “But I take your point. Meet people who aren't the Avengers. Openly cultivate an interest in this world, in this city, now that things have calmed down somewhat.” He paused, glancing past Natasha at the city lights. “Travel.”

Clint said, “Try not to dwell on the past. Don't let your regrets eat you alive.”

Loki nodded. “As long as I don't ignore them.” He shook his head. “The things I've done… What led up to them. I'm lucky. I have a second chance most people will never have. I don't deserve it. I can't forget that. I _won't_.”

“We don't want you to,” Natasha said. “If I did, if Clint did, our lives would be easier and much less complicated. But we owe debts that we can never repay, no matter how much we wish to. We can only make sure we don't go deeper into it.”

Loki leaned his head against Natasha's. “Sometimes, you scare me with how much we're alike. Right now, I think it's what will help me through.”

Clint laughed. “That had better not be all we're good for.”

Loki smiled and kissed Natasha's temple. “No, it isn't.”


End file.
